


Absolutes

by Ally_Oop



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Finds Out About Merlin’s Magic (Merlin), Attempt at Humor, Banter, Character Death, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Some Humor, Some Plot, Uther Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Vulnerable Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24087358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ally_Oop/pseuds/Ally_Oop
Summary: Arthur is, in general, very sure of himself. However when he is told by his father that Merlin clouds his judgement and then discovers Merlin’s magic soon after, he is conflicted between what is best for Camelot and what is best for himself. Can those ever be the same thing?(All happy endings here because I don’t have the heart to put these boys through anything *too* bad.)
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 118
Kudos: 536





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur had always considered himself an exceptionally observant man. He had to be; after all, minute and seemingly insignificant details could be the difference between life or death in a combat scenario. And, in that same vein, he fancied himself to be rather good at reading people and understanding their emotions. Within reason of course, as women and authority figures and children were all exceptions to this skill. Arthur mentioned this part of himself very seldom, as it wasn’t exactly ideal future king behavior to brag about one’s empathy. At least it wasn’t as far as his father was concerned, but as far as his father was concerned a fair few things that Arthur did were not future king behavior; including but not limited to: backtalk, saying “thank you” to servants, laughing too loud, getting too drunk, and arranging his food into smiley faces. Arthur could see his point in certain cases, of course, but generally viewed his father’s strictness as more of an attempt to reign him in than any genuine code of conduct that simply had to be followed. After all, he reasoned, how could his heart-shaped glob of mashed potatoes possibly be an indicator of being unfit to rule?

It was because of this that Arthur grew to view his relationship with Uther in such a way that he assumed they had an unspoken agreement that Arthur would really just do as he pleased, as long as it didn’t excessively upset his father. After all, when he insisted on making and adhering to such minute and strict rules, he could hardly expect Arthur to refrain from breaking them on occasion. 

Recently, however, Arthur found that his father’s normal good-natured smiles and exasperated sighs when he was met with disobedience had turned to cold glares and hissed reprimands that felt all too genuine for Arthur to be comfortable upon receiving them. He didn’t dare ask his father what had caused the shift; that wouldn’t go over well in any scenario. Assuming it was temporary, Arthur continued his usual routine of playful disobedience, but things never quite fell back into the familiar rhythm of before.

It was exactly this that Arthur was thinking about when he rounded the corner on the way to his chambers, nearly running directly into his father, who rather looked as he was hoping not to run into Arthur at this exact moment.

“Arthur!” Uther greeted, a reserved smile on his face and an indeterminate glint in his eye. “I was just looking for you.” Arthur pasted a smile on his face, positive this was probably all just the precursor to a friendly conversation.

“Hello, Father!” He replied cheerfully, ignoring the pit in his stomach.

“I need to discuss something of great importance with you,” Uther said in a low voice. “In private, preferably.”

“Of course,” Arthur responded immediately, offering a smile which Uther did not return. He instead gave a curt nod and started off towards Arthur’s room, not checking to see if Arthur was actually following. Arthur found that this irked him slightly; he knew that his father had no reason to believe he wouldn’t follow but somehow the absolute faith in his obedience was rather annoying. Despite his moment of self reflection, he followed at Uther’s heels dutifully.

They entered Arthur’s chambers together, and after the door had been shut tightly and double checked, Uther began immediately.

“It’s about your manservant.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold. 

“Is he hurt?”

His father looked at him for a moment, a pained expression adorning his face. After a long pause, he sighed.

“No, not that I know of. But my problem isn’t with the boy,” He admitted slowly, a growing air of sternness in his words. “It’s with you.” 

Uther’s face was almost saddened as he fixed Arthur with a steady gaze, his mouth tightened into a thin line and his eyebrows furrowed with what must have been concern if Arthur didn’t know that look all too well. Uther wore the same expression when he chastised his son for anything, and Arthur had grown far too used to being able to pick out the slight curl of his lips and the exaggerated line between his eyebrows that betrayed him. This was an act, and while he may be upset, it wasn’t for the reasons he was implying. Arthur set his jaw, and shook his head as if to rid himself of the confusion. 

“With me? Father, what are you-?”

“You’ve grown too attached to him.” Uther said, what little genuine pity that had lived in his expression hardening to an accusatory glare. An honest one, at least, Arthur thought bitterly.

He laughed, trying his best to disguise his growing irritation. “Good help is hard to find; I can’t be blamed for-“

“Good help? Why do you complain about his incompetence every day? Why do you constantly bombard me with tales of his mistakes and apparently infinite shortcomings? Why is it that you whine about his lack of efficiency every single day?” Uther was glaring at him steadily, not affording him the luxury of looking away. Arthur was growing more angry by the second, appalled that his father would accuse him like this. And with no evidence, at that.

“Father, I-!”

“And yet, you keep him around.”

“Father-!”

“And yet when he goes missing, or gets hurt, or leaves without permission, you are inconsolable.”

“If you’d just-!”

“Arthur, this is not sustainable. You cannot get yourself worked up over one insignificant serving boy merely because you enjoy his jokes.”

Arthur did not enjoy Merlin’s jokes, a fact which he would’ve brought up if a slight moment of thought had not suddenly told him that this was not true.

“Hang on-!”

“Arthur, he clouds your judgement.”

“Clouds my-?”

“The boy got himself poisoned and you nearly killed yourself to save him.”

“Would you have preferred I let him die?”

“I would have preferred you stay safe.”

“I would have done that if it were Merlin, or a servant, or a simple villager,” Arthur spat venomously, fixing Uther with a glare that rivaled his own. “If a person’s life is at stake and I can save them I will do everything in my power to help.”

“That’s a dangerous school of thought for you.” Uther said wearily, sinking into a nearby chair and rubbing his temples.

“It’s dangerous to want to save a man’s life?”

“You put yourself in harm’s way for him.” Uther said, anger creeping back into his voice. “You are the future king; you can’t always be the hero.”

Arthur opened his mouth to retort but Uther held up a hand and he snapped his mouth shut immediately, which he silently resented himself for.

“You must stay alive to rule once I’m gone, and you can’t do that if you’re rotting away at the bottom of some cave because you risked your life for a SERVANT, Arthur. Being a king means making vastly difficult decisions based on what is good for Camelot‘s future. And at the moment YOU are that future. I can’t have you trying to kill yourself every time that boy gets himself into another ridiculous scrape.”

“I’m meant to abandon my morals to be a ‘good king,’ then?” Arthur shot back. Uther groaned.

“You weren’t always like this. Rough around the edges as any young boy should be, but then the moment that boy shows up you start acting like a reckless fool. I won’t have it, Arthur.”

“Father-!”

“We have hundreds of better fit servants for the job and you could replace this boy at any time without so much as lifting a finger, but you DON’T.”

“Father, I-!”

“You complain about him every single moment of every single day and yet you make no moves to get rid of him! Why is that, Arthur?”

“Because-!”

“Why? Why would you keep him around all this time if not for something other than the pursuit of ‘good help?’”

“If you would let me get a single word in, I’d gladly explain.” Arthur snapped.

Uther pointed at him, narrowing his eyes.  
“I’ll have none of that.” He lowered his hand and crossed his arms, fixing Arthur with a look that quite plainly said he had no intention of changing his mind but would love to see Arthur try.

“Go on, then. Explain.”

“Merlin is merely entertainment, father,” Arthur insisted. “I admit I do complain about him a lot, but he’s really not that bad.”

“Really.” Uther said, not as a question but as more of a statement of ‘I’m certain you’re lying but can’t be bothered to interrupt yet.’

“I keep him around because his shortcomings and lack of intelligence are amusing; he’s no more to me than a fool.”

“The way that boy addresses you-“

“You‘re aware ‘that boy’ has a name, aren’t you father?” Arthur spat, forgetting himself.

At this, Uther’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open slightly in shock. Arthur winced internally.

“You are NOT to speak to me like that,” Uther hissed dangerously. Arthur set his jaw and stood firm, looking directly into his eyes. Uther was the first to stand down, and he squeezed his eyes shut and calmed himself with a great deal of effort.

“I don’t want to fight, Arthur,” He said after a moment. “Truly, I don’t. I’m just looking out for you. You‘re the future king. I won’t always be here to keep your head on straight.” Uther allowed himself a small smile. Arthur didn’t return it.

“And I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but kings simply do not have the luxury of choosing our friends. Our every move has to be for the betterment of Camelot, and when you make reckless decisions to protect a single servant because you enjoy his jokes, you are putting our kingdom at risk. I know you don’t want that, Arthur.” Uther said, voice gentle but firm. Arthur softened a little, but remained defiant.

“I want what is best for Camelot,” He replied steadily. “And I am confident that I can do the right thing even with Merlin around.”

“You have made a great number of rash decisions in the name of protecting that boy,” Uther pointed out, unconvinced.

“Then consider this a pledge to do better. I promise, father. Merlin will not get in the way.”

Uther fixed him with a grim look, but nodded.

“Thank you, father.”

At that moment, the door creaked open and a familiar head of dark hair poked into the room.

“I’ve got your laundry; took about six washes to get the stench out of your-!” Merlin froze. A basket of clothes was situated precariously on top of his left hand, and threatened to topple with every slight movement.

“Your majesty,” Merlin greeted, offering an awkward grin and shuffling into the room, keeping his back against the wall. Uther shot Arthur an exasperated glance before leaving the room, never acknowledging Merlin.

“He seemed cheerful.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“Is something wrong?” Merlin eased the basket of clothes to the floor and set about putting them away while Arthur looked out at the window, thinking. It was incredibly nasty outside; it had stormed all the previous night and rain continued to pour down in unforgivable sheets, covering the entirety of the grounds in almost knee deep mud. 

He had lied to his father’s face, Arthur thought. And he had done it easily, too. Merlin was not a simple fool to Arthur; he was a simple fool but he was a simple fool that Arthur rather enjoyed the company of. He could be quite smart at times and although Arthur would never divulge this to Merlin, his perspective sometimes helped make things clearer.

“Yes,” Arthur finally said. “There is something wrong.” He gestured to the window, treating Merlin to his most angelic smile. “I left my cloak out there yesterday.”

Merlin glanced outside and turned to face Arthur slowly, fixing him with a pleading look. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. And I will. Go get it.”

Merlin grumbled about it but left the chambers with a comment under his breath that Arthur didn’t catch. He figured that was a rather a good thing. 

He thought about the deal with Uther. Truth be told, Arthur hadn’t noticed any change in his behavior that coincided with Merlin’s arrival, nor did he look back on the actions his father deemed irrevocably wrong with any sort of regret. He was glad to have saved Merlin, and would have even at the cost of his own life if truth be told. He hadn’t ASKED to be the prince, he reasoned, and therefore it wasn’t the end of the world if he embarked on selfish endeavors from time to time. He was Arthur Pendragon, and was around 88% certain he wouldn’t get himself killed. He was comfortable with those odds.

Arthur heard the door open, and a few moments later Merlin entered with the cloak in tow. Arthur squinted, and cold fear stung his stomach all at once.

Merlin was bone dry, despite having gone out in the middle of a thunderstorm. 

Did he really think Arthur was that stupid? 

The cloak Merlin carried was dry as well. There was no way it had gotten dried in five minutes after being out all night.

Sorcery.

“Merlin?” Arthur said quietly after he’d processed what he was seeing.

Merlin looked up, eyes wide and innocent. He had to have practiced that face or something, Arthur thought. 

“You’re dry.”

He thought he saw Merlin wince imperceptibly. His head was spinning. There was no way.

“I stopped to dry off.” Merlin said, shrugging.

Simply no way.

“You were gone for five minutes.”

It was impossible.

“There was a fire.”

“A fire?” Arthur repeated slowly.

“Yes. A fire. A very hot fire. In a fireplace.”

“Merlin, there’s no mud on your boots.” Arthur pointed out, becoming hyper-aware of the way Merlin’s eyes shifted from his boots to the cloak to Arthur. There was something in them, something Arthur recognized as familiar but had never given too much thought.

It looked like guilt.

Arthur suddenly found it quite difficult to breathe. 

“I changed them.” Merlin said quickly.

“You got the cloak, went to your chambers and changed your boots, dried yourself and the cloak off, and got back here, all in five minutes?”

“Yes? Yes. I did. I’m very fast.”

“I’m glad to know that the speed at which you compete tasks is wholly dependent on how much personal discomfort you’re in,” Arthur remarked, offering a nasty grin and desperately hoping that it disguised his fear. 

He wasn’t quite sure what he was scared of; logic said that it should be Merlin but he didn’t really find himself trembling at the sight of his scrawny manservant grinning awkwardly and tossing his cloak from hand to hand.

Merlin had no answer for him except a shrug. A rare but welcome occurrence, Arthur thought. He rose and made his way to the window, gazing out at the rain and cursing Merlin for being so careless. A sorcerer. He had to be; there was no other way this was possible. Perhaps Merlin really had dried it. But that wasn’t possible, he knew that. Sorcery was the only option. And Arthur hated that he knew the truth. Why couldn’t he just be as stupid as Merlin believed him to be? Things would be a lot easier, he reckoned.

“That must be a different cloak, then.” Arthur announced. He didn’t believe this for a second, of course, but could read the fear in Merlin’s face and decided that the both of them didn’t need this today.

“You never got the cloak, did you?” Arthur challenged. “You went and got a different one so you wouldn’t have to go outside.”

Merlin practically melted with relief, and offered a smile and a noncommittal shrug. Arthur groaned inwardly. Merlin really did think he was an idiot.

“Uh, right! You’re exactly right, you’ve caught me red handed. I’ll just go get the real one; nothing gets past you, sire!” Merlin left and returned five minutes later, dripping and with mud covered boots. 

Arthur sighed.

“Now you’ve tracked mud all around my chambers.” He pointed out.

Merlin’s grin faded, and he looked around as if just noticing the mud for the first time.

“S’pose I did.” He admitted.

“Well, that’ll be your first thing to clean up, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Are you sure nothing is wrong? You were talking with the King earlier and he never means well,” Merlin asked easily.

“If something were wrong, I would tell you, Merlin.” Arthur snapped. He paused, and thought of his father’s words. 

“Actually, I mean, no, I wouldn’t tell you. Not that anything is wrong, of course. Merely that if something were, you’d be the last to know about it.”

“Interesting,” Merlin said, fixing Arthur with a suspicious look.

“Naturally. That is the natural order of things. But, as I said: nothing. Nothing is wrong. Everything is actually, if you were wondering, decidedly not wrong.” 

Arthur was reeling. Merlin could see this. Arthur knew that Merlin could see this.

“You’re acting quite a measure more idiotic than usual,” Merlin pointed out, chancing a grin. “Which is quite the feat, actually.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, now I know something has got to be wrong; that wasn’t creative at all.”

“Nothing is wrong; could you manage to stay out of my bloody business for once?”

“Right,” Merlin said, entirely unconvinced. “So I’ll be hearing you whine about it later, then?”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

Arthur ducked out of the room quickly, pausing outside the door and leaning against the wall, breathing hard. He heard movement from within as Merlin presumably set to work cleaning the mess he’d just made. He tried to think clearly. Merlin was a sorcerer. He didn’t want to be right, and nothing had been technically confirmed, but the signs were all there. The implications washed over him like a fever. All the times he’d made a fool of himself out of nowhere. All the times that chores were done in seconds. All the times he’d been gravely injured and mysteriously healed the next morning. All the times his foes had tripped by chance or suddenly lost their weapons. It was all Merlin.

Arthur was reeling again. He struggled to pinpoint what he was feeling, finding that nothing seemed concrete within his mind at the moment. He grasped at absolutes. 

Absolute number one: magic is illegal.

Absolute number two: the punishment for magic is death.

Absolute number three: Merlin had saved Arthur’s life with magic more times than he could count.

Absolute number four: Arthur, if he was being honest with himself, (an admittedly rare occurrence,) didn’t really want Merlin to die, let alone by his father’s hand.

Arthur resolved to only focus on these points, in an effort to simplify his internal struggle. Ignoring the emotional aspect of it all, looking at it as a proper king would. Well, a king who wasn’t his father, anyways. Magic was illegal, and Merlin was a sorcerer. Therefore, Merlin was a criminal. Merlin, the criminal, had saved his life on multiple occasions. But, did that excuse his crime? What was best for Camelot? What would his father think if he chose to keep Merlin’s secret and discovered it later?

Arthur raised his hand to his mouth and bit his knuckle worriedly. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Merlin should be executed. That’s how these things turned out. It should be simple.

But it wasn’t, unfortunately. He lowered his hand, hearing Uther’s lecture about how knuckle biting wasn’t future king behavior in his head.

For whatever reason, Arthur had found out his closest friend was the very thing that Arthur had been raised to believe was the epitome of evil. All logic said he should hate Merlin. But he didn’t. Why didn’t he?

Perhaps it was the whole Life Saving bit. Loads of people had saved his life, though, he reasoned. Although, perhaps not as many times as Merlin had. 

Why was he even debating this? He should go to Uther and end it all; Arthur would be hailed as a hero and Merlin would be-

Arthur couldn’t finish that thought. Was he weak? Was Merlin holding him under some spell? That couldn’t be it. Why would the spell allow him to consider letting Merlin be executed? Or was that part of the spell’s genius? The illusion of free will? What if the spell was controlling his thoughts at that very second, allowing him to doubt its own intentions under the mere guise of actual independent thought?

Arthur’s head hurt.

He went over his absolutes again, slightly edited.

Absolute number one: magic was illegal.

Absolute number two: Merlin had magic.

Absolute number three: Merlin had saved his life multiple times using magic.

Absolute number four: if his father knew about absolute numbers two and three, he’d have Merlin executed.

Absolute number five: Arthur really, really, REALLY did not want Merlin to be executed.

Arthur was tired of thinking about this. He’d play dumb and let himself process. Nobody could prove WHEN he’d realized Merlin had magic, so he would always have the option of turning Merlin in. He could wait a bit, and see if anything changed. Yes, that’s what he’d do. At the first sign of treachery, he would accuse Merlin and set things right.

Arthur nodded to himself, satisfied. A very kingly way of going about things, indeed. He ignored the fact that the thought of turning Merlin in made him physically nauseous. Of little importance, he was sure.

Arthur turned on his heel and burst through the door, finding Merlin completely dry and mud free. The floor was spotless. It had been three minutes. Merlin really wasn’t making things easier.

Merlin glanced down at the floor.  
“You’re back early,” He said uneasily.

“Nice job,” Arthur choked out. Merlin gave him a slightly confused smile.

“That was quite cordial of you; are you feeling well?” Merlin’s fearful confusion turned to a genuinely grateful smile, and Arthur found himself growing confused. How could someone like that be an evil sorcerer with an unquenchable bloodlust? It simply didn’t make sense. Perhaps he was an evil sorcerer with an unquenchable bloodlust and a good set of acting skills.


	2. Breakfast and Banter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur’s figured out the magic part; now he has to work out how he feels about it.

Arthur didn’t sleep much that night. He had long since resigned himself to willful ignorance, reasoning that since nobody had to know that he knew, it meant Uther didn’t have to know either. This was unsustainable, he thought. That’s what his father would say. Unsustainable. As if the impermanence of a solution made the temporary relief it offered any less valuable. 

His father had a habit of doing that, he thought. Of pretending that everything had to be solved in extremes. If a solution didn’t work indefinitely it wasn’t correct; you must disregard the time it may buy you lest it cause you to grow too comfortable. Arthur understood the sentiment, but he simply didn’t see the point of making extreme decisions for the sake of it when moderate ones did the job just as well over time. Granted, he had never talked to Uther about this particular opinion; somehow he didn’t think that posing a direct opposition to his father’s ruling style would go over too well.

He blinked in the darkness, wishing he could just sleep and forget about all of this. Perhaps it would turn out to just be a strange dream, and he would discover come morning that everything was simple and easy to deal with. He rolled over to face the window. A sliver of orange light through the crack in the curtains told him it was nearly morning. Fantastic. He shuddered, not from cold, and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

And then, there was Merlin. That idiot who possessed a life threatening secret and chose to be careless around the one person it would hurt the most. 

This thought gave Arthur slight pause. Hurt. Was that how he felt? It made sense, in a twisted way. Despite the fact that he’d considered executing Merlin earlier that same day and his initial reaction to the revelation had been fear, Arthur still found himself upset Merlin hadn’t just come clean. 

He was being ridiculous, Arthur thought. He was the prince in a kingdom where magic was punishable by death; how on earth could he expect Merlin to just up and tell him he was a sorcerer? 

And on top of it all, there was the issue of legality and morality. Arthur could not prove that Merlin had never done anything evil with his magic. He knew that. But despite that element of mystery and the newfound knowledge that Merlin had been lying to him for quite a long time, he wasn’t particularly convinced Merlin was even capable of evil. If Merlin had sinister intentions, he would have done something by now. He had certainly had ample opportunity to. And, Arthur reasoned, Merlin would not trouble himself to save Arthur’s life time and time again if his intent was to kill him. 

No, Arthur decided. Merlin couldn’t be evil. Which, unfortunately, poked holes in the whole “All magic is evil, no exceptions,” rule that Arthur’s father operated on. If Arthur trusted Merlin, it meant breaking his trust in Uther. Sure, his father was flawed, as was everyone. But if magic truly wasn’t all bad, the things Arthur knew about his father suddenly came even more sharply into question. 

Arthur shuddered again.

He briefly toyed with the idea of just giving Merlin the day off and dealing with this all the next day, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He hated giving Merlin days off. He always came back cockier than usual and somehow even more emboldened towards disrespect. And the day itself was even more unbearable; without Merlin’s constant interruptions and snide retorts he always found himself growing bored.

Arthur eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep, but was immediately startled awake by blinding sunlight and a familiar singsong-y voice.

“Rise and shine!”

Arthur groaned, partly to indicate he was awake and partly because he wasn’t entirely ready to face yesterday’s realities yet. He opened one eye. Merlin was picking clothes up off of the floor in fluid swiping motions, tossing them behind him into a pile. Arthur frowned, and a confused smile stretched across his face against his will.

“What’s all that for?” He demanded.

“All what?”

“The pile. You’ve got the basket right there; why not just put them directly in? It would be easier.” Arthur pointed out. Merlin squinted and tilted his head.

“If you’ve got such a problem with the way I go about washing your clothes, you’re always welcome to do it yourself, sire.” 

Arthur mumbled something obscene into his pillow and groaned. After he had sat up fully he saw that Merlin had crossed the room and created a second pile of clothes, carefully picking out every red garment and adding it to the second heap.

“You’re joking,” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Joking? Oh, never, sire. I take my job very seriously,” Merlin insisted.

Arthur nearly laughed. Something about their banter was a comfort to him; it was familiar and made everything feel normal in spite of what he knew.

“For someone so utterly lazy you seem to be exceptionally determined as long as the outcome is pissing me off,” Arthur mused.

“For someone so utterly clueless about how anything is done you seem to be exceptionally confident in your critiques, sire.” Merlin replied easily. He then set about picking certain articles of clothing out of the first pile, holding them up to the light, and nodding or shaking his head before tossing them blindly over his shoulder. Arthur watched, stunned and vaguely irritated.

“Is that a THIRD pile?” He demanded.

“Is that ANOTHER unprovoked comment?” Merlin retorted, separating the first pile into three more with a steadily growing grin on his face.

“It’s laundry,” Arthur insisted. “I know how to do laundry, Merlin.”

“Oh, do you? I’m afraid I won’t believe it until I see it.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Merlin stopped and nodded slowly, his face the picture of derision.

“Yes, it’s called laundry, perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

Arthur grabbed the item closest to him, which happened to be a boot, and hurled it at Merlin’s head. To both his and Arthur’s surprise, he caught it.

They stared for a moment, not speaking. 

“Well,” Merlin said, placing the boot carefully on the floor. “That’s never happened before.”

“Surprised your arms didn’t break,” Arthur scoffed.

“I wouldn’t worry, sire; you throw like a child.”

Arthur responded by throwing the matching boot, which Merlin ducked easily. 

“Like a toddler, that one,” He remarked. 

Arthur glared as hard as he could, fighting a grin.

Merlin gathered the now several piles of clothes into one pile and heaped it into a basket, much to Arthur’s displeasure.

“All that, and you were just going to put it all in the basket,” He fumed.

“How else am I meant to carry it?” Merlin asked earnestly, and immediately had to duck another flying object. It might have been a goblet but not even Arthur was sure.

“Right, that’s my cue,” Merlin pointed to Arthur’s breakfast on the table and hoisted the basket of clothes onto his shoulder. “Food’s there.”

“Merlin,” Arthur called after him. Merlin turned around expectantly.

“Stables.” Arthur said, giving him an angelic smile.

“Ah, fantastic, for a moment there I thought you’d been replaced with a slightly less horrible version of yourself.”

“Get out.”

“Right, got it, I spat in your food anyways.”

Arthur grinned to himself and began to eat, allowing his mind to wander. 

He had decided he was okay with the whole evil sorcerer thing. Well, the sorcerer thing. The evil bit remained to be seen. Merlin would never betray him, and his lack of honesty was merely self-preservation. That had to be it.

As for Uther, he simply couldn’t know. He wouldn’t think twice; Merlin would be as good as dead. Perhaps his decisiveness made him a better king. Perhaps it made him a worse one. Arthur wasn’t sure anymore, but he now knew two things for certain:

1\. Merlin would NOT be executed.

2\. Merlin had not actually spat in his food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness and general lack of anything happening; I’ve got an exciting part coming and I needed Arthur to sort of figure himself out before the Big Stuff comes. I hope you all enjoy this little filler blurb and I can’t wait to share the next part with you 💕💕💕💕 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! If you have any suggestions you’d like to share or just a nice word for me please leave them below!!! I love to read them 💕


	3. Smiles and Stab Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur go on a hunting trip, and Arthur gets introspective. One thing leads to another, the situation necessitates that Merlin use magic to save Arthur once again.
> 
> *POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING*
> 
> Blood
> 
> Single stab wound
> 
> There isn’t anything too graphic, only a brief description of a lot of blood and a few descriptions of the pain.
> 
> ABSOLUTELY *NO* DESCRIPTIONS OF THE WOUND ITSELF

“I think I’ve finally figured it out.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ve figured out why I hate these hunting trips.”

“Really?”

“It’s because you walk too fast.”

Arthur stopped in his tracks, and raised his eyebrows in an expression of mock offense.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s true.”

“I always knew you were a lazy fool, but this is simply absurd.” Arthur scoffed. He started walking again, consciously going a little quicker than usual. He heard a groan, followed by a series of clumsy and hurried footsteps behind him as Merlin struggled to catch up.

“But oh, Merlin,” Arthur said, turning round to face him and continuing to walk backwards. “I’m being rude! Allow me to slow down for you.”

Merlin held up a hand, and shook his head.

“Don’t you dare.”

Arthur came to an abrupt halt and stuck his leg out as Merlin scrambled to stop himself in time, but only succeeded in ending up in a crumpled heap on the forest floor.

Merlin spat out a leaf and glared up at Arthur, who gasped as if just noticing him and brought a hand to his mouth.

“Oh, Merlin! I’m afraid I didn’t see you coming,” Arthur said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have been walking so fast!”

“I’ve got extra weapons in here, you know!” Merlin exclaimed, gesturing to the pack that currently pinned him to the floor with its weight.

“Pity you weren’t impaled,” Arthur grinned.

“At this rate, I’m beginning to wish I had been.”

Arthur laughed at him for a few seconds more before extending a hand. Merlin eyed it suspiciously.

“For God’s sake, Merlin, I’m done. Honest.”

After a few more cautious glances, Merlin accepted the help and was hauled roughly to his feet. He swayed under the weight of the pack but regained his balance with some effort and a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Merlin said. “I wouldn’t have needed to thank you if you hadn’t tripped me, of course.”

“I wouldn’t have needed to trip you if you hadn’t been acting like a lazy oaf.”

Arthur turned to look at Merlin, expecting an eye roll or equally scathing remark but was utterly spellbound to find a genuinely serene smile on his servant’s face. It wasn’t like Arthur never saw Merlin smile, but it wasn’t usually like this. This was a special sort of unbothered and truly relaxed smile that rarely graced Arthur’s eyes. Whenever he smiled it was to laugh at a joke, or poke fun at Arthur, or to feign innocence; his smiles carried airs of derision or fear and hinted at the true inner workings of his mind without ever saying anything. Arthur had gotten quite used to reading them. But this one was earnest, carrying no significance behind it except peace. There was no hidden motive, no playful sarcasm, no fear. It was just a smile.

The strangest part was that it wasn’t going away. Merlin’s smiles were usually brief and meaningful, but this one seemed to promise it would stay, and that there was nothing to be afraid of. It seemed to say, ‘Everything is okay, and it will stay that way.’

They walked side by side, the golden rays made by the gaps in the leaves overhead twisting into nebulous shapes and floating over the two of their heads listlessly, illuminating parts of their faces at random and coaxing the eye towards certain features. Arthur could hardly be blamed for staring, when Mother Nature herself had all but demanded it.

Arthur realized he’d been holding his breath, and coughed, looking away. Staring was not future king behavior. He glanced over one last time, and nearly ran into a tree as a result.

A few minutes later, Merlin pointed ahead at a particularly gnarled oak tree, whose roots covered the entire path in a mess of knots and loops. 

“Try not to trip.” Merlin said, grinning sideways at him.

“I’m not an idiot, Merlin.”

“Whatever you say, sire.”

As they neared the tree, Merlin put his hand up to his mouth and whispered something. Arthur whipped his head around, eyes widening.

“What did you just-?”

Arthur felt a root beneath his foot move, and he lost balance and tumbled forwards. His cheek slid against the dirt and he felt the root beneath him moving again, presumably back to its correct position.

“Ow.”

“I tried to warn you, sire.” Merlin said, struggling to choke down his laughter.

Arthur muttered obscenities as he scrambled to his feet and looked up at Merlin, who had given up and was laughing so hard he had to sit down. Arthur knew a spell when he was tripped by one, but really didn’t fancy having this conversation right now. He wondered again why Merlin was being so reckless. It seemed strange, and all too sudden for it to be a coincidence. Did he know that Arthur knew? Was he simply tired of hiding?

“Are you hurt at all?” Merlin asked after he’d recovered.

Arthur gave him a glare but shook his head.

“It’s going to take more than a tree to best me.”

“You looked pretty bested just then.” Merlin pointed out.

“Shut up.”

Merlin let out a small laugh and then sighed heavily. He stretched his shoulders back a bit, which wasn’t easy with the pack on his back. Merlin winced slightly and squeezed his eyes shut, bringing a hand up to rub his shoulder.

“Merlin,” Arthur said suddenly, surprising even himself. Merlin opened this eyes and turned to him questioningly.

“I want the pack.”

“You want the pack.” Merlin repeated slowly.

“Yes. Give it to me. Right now.”

Merlin eased it off of his shoulders and let it slide to the forest floor, where it landed with a heavy thump. Arthur dug around inside for a second and produced a dagger. 

“Ah. Good. My, uh, dagger! It’s still here.” He exclaimed, sliding the blade back into its sheath and tossing it back inside. Merlin watched this with an expression that was halfway between laughter and utter confusion.

“I was worried you had lost my favorite dagger,” Arthur insisted, squaring his shoulders and carefully avoiding eye contact.

Merlin narrowed his eyes, and spoke cautiously.

“That wasn’t your favorite; I thought the one with the little blue gem on the hilt was your favorite.”

“I was worried you had lost my SECOND favorite dagger,” Arthur amended. “And frankly I can’t focus when I’m worrying about my things falling prey to your ineptitude, so I’m taking over the pack.” 

Merlin’s eyes lit up, and he smiled cautiously. Arthur tried to ignore this, and hoisted the (admittedly very heavy) pack onto his own shoulders. He almost laughed at how angry this whole exchange would make his father.

“Thank you, Arthur.” Merlin said, beaming.

“Shut up. I’m merely doing this to protect my things,” he insisted. “Besides, you’re no good to me with a broken back.”

They fell into an easy silence, with Merlin’s steps light and carefree now that they were free of the weight. The smile had returned to his face, and Arthur found it to be contagious against his will.

Arthur didn’t want to think about how his father was starting to be proved right, in a sense. He was far more attached to Merlin than he cared to admit, as was growing increasingly obvious. The thought scared him.

Arthur let his mind wander and found that he felt lighter, despite the added weight of the pack. He hadn’t the faintest idea what it was, but felt deep down that it all was some sort of reassurance. The smile, the tree root, and his sudden urge towards altruism. Perhaps it was the final piece he needed in order to fully accept reality.

He checked his absolutes again, editing them for the second time.

Absolute number one: magic was illegal.

Absolute number two: Merlin had magic, but was not dangerous.

Absolute number three: Uther would execute Merlin if he knew, and was likely already looking for a way to get rid of him.

Absolute number four: Arthur wasn’t going to let that happen.

He sighed. It would be alright; his father would never know and he could have the best of both worlds. Besides, he thought, giving Merlin a sideways glance. Having a sorcerer on his side would be an advantage. Perhaps he could intercede on Merlin’s behalf, someday. Convince Uther that not all magic was inherently evil, and describe in detail how many times it has saved his life, and appeal to his father’s good nature.

It wasn’t realistic, Arthur thought. But it might be possible. Uther, despite his nagging, truly cared for his son; his ways of showing it were often abrasive, but he had called Arthur the future. How could he look at the man who had singlehandedly been protecting the future as a threat to Camelot?

Merlin nudged him suddenly, and he startled a little. Merlin’s eyebrows shot up at this and he snorted. 

“Jumpy, are you?”

“I didn’t jump.”

“Looked like a jump.”

“Well, it wasn’t.”

“Right, sure.” Merlin grinned, unconvinced.

Arthur sighed, and shifted the straps of the pack closer to himself.

“What did you want, anyways?”

“You never told me what Uther was on about.”

The question caught Arthur fully off guard, and he nearly tripped of his own accord.

“Nothing. Friendly visit.” He said quickly. Too quickly, it seemed, as Merlin fixed him with such a disbelieving look that Arthur may as well have just claimed there was a dragon behind his head.

“If you don’t want to tell me it’s alright.” Merlin said easily, shrugging and offering Arthur a reassuring smile. 

Arthur would have reflected on the gentle sincerity of that comment for quite a long time if he hadn’t been interrupted by a sword plunging into his side.

Agonizing pain seized his entire body, and he fell to the floor, abandoning the pack. He could hear blood rushing in his ears, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain and gasping for air. He brought a hand to his side, and cried out in pain. It was gushing blood like a river, turning the forest floor the same color as his cloak.

Arthur heard yelling and reached for his sword blindly. His ears were ringing and his vision was blurry, and he could only make out two figures in front of him. One of them fell to the floor beside him and twitched before ceasing to move.

“Merlin-?” Arthur gasped, feeling more lightheaded by the second. Panic gripped him. Merlin had to be okay. He tried to move but found the pain too much to bear.

“Arthur-?” 

It was Merlin’s voice. Merlin was alive. Merlin was okay. Arthur was starting to feel sleepy. He opened his eyes slightly, trying to show Merlin that he was still alive. Everything seemed so far away.

Arthur felt Merlin lay a hand gently on the wound, and he began speaking rapidly in a language Arthur did not recognize. Magic, he managed to think. The pain slowly began to ease up, and his vision began to clear. Merlin’s face slowly came into view, his skin drained of color and his eyes boring into Arthur’s. His concern was palpable. Arthur wanted to say something, to show he was alright, but he still felt weak and would gasp in pain every time he tried to move.

When Arthur had fully recovered, he sat up and did a visual once over of Merlin. No injuries, it looked like. Merlin was sweaty and disheveled and breathing heavily, but physically unharmed. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re alright.”

“I’M alright? You got stabbed!”

“Huh. I suppose I did,” Arthur mused, slightly embarrassed. 

Arthur glanced over Merlin’s shoulders. The body of a young man in mismatched armor lay nearby, his leg at an odd angle and smoke wafting off of his body.

“How did you do that?” Arthur asked, knowing the answer. 

Merlin seemed to freeze, and his mouth opened but no sound came out. Arthur tried to look as nonthreatening as possible, but wasn’t sure if he was actually achieving anything as nonthreatening was never really his go-to. Not very “future king” of him, he thought.

“You didn’t know?” Merlin asked quietly, eyes full of fear. A pang of guilt hit Arthur. 

He thought of his father, first. Of his stern voice and accusatory tone when talking about Merlin. Or Arthur, for that matter. Of his ridiculous rules and haughty laughter. Of his support and his belittlement. Of his love for Arthur and his hatred for magic. Of his gentle encouragement and his venomous reprimands. Of his role as father and his role as king. Of playful punches in the arm and jokes. Of his Father.

He thought of Merlin, next. Of his snide remarks and his laziness. Of his magic. Of his deception. Of his mischievous grins and tripping over tree roots. Of early mornings and banter. Of piles of laundry. Of his genuine smiles and the little language they represented. Of encouragement, despite everything. Of suppressed laughter and falling off of horses. Of his life being saved, time and time again. Of selflessness. Of carefree chuckles and sarcasm. Of the blue of his eyes and the sunlight on his cheeks. Of his smile.

In that moment, Arthur made a choice.

He sighed.

“Of course I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me!! Sorry for the cliff hanger; but at this rate the next chapter will be coming really really soon so don't despair! Not entirely proud of this one because I’m shit at writing action sequences but I hope my banter makes up for it lmao! I love you all; have a lovely day 💕💕💕💕


	4. Confiding and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur knows Merlin has magic. Merlin knows that Arthur knows. All that’s left now is to work things out.

They didn’t dare speak. It didn’t feel right yet. 

The air was heavy.

Arthur was still slumped against the tree he’d fallen against, and Merlin was kneeling near his feet, head bowed and hands shaking. His face was paler than usual.

The sunlight seemed to sense the weight of this moment, and hid herself behind a cloud to wait it out, bathing the forest in a soft and surreal light.

After a few minutes of uneasy silence, Merlin looked up. 

They locked eyes. They were searching, searching for some sort of indication of anything concrete or some sign that would reveal the other’s thoughts. 

But they were stuck, both equally afraid of doing the wrong thing. Of saying the wrong thing. Of ruining whatever it was that had been happening the past few years.

Arthur wanted to say something. He wanted to smile and tell Merlin that it was alright, and he wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. Arthur wanted to see the relief on his face, wanted to hear his laugh, wanted to make a joke and fall back into their comfortable routine. 

But instead he just stared.

Merlin was the first to break the silence.

“What now?” He asked, voice barely audible. 

The phrasing of the question broke Arthur’s heart. Merlin could’ve asked what Arthur was going to do, or he could’ve asked if he was going to be killed; but he had placed no blame, and left the question up in the air, nonthreatening and vague. There was no hint of accusation, and no weight placed on Arthur’s shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted quietly. 

Merlin looked away.

They fell silent again.

Arthur needed to be the one to break it this time. He needed to tell Merlin it was alright. His own fear was not important right now; something had to happen and it would never end in a way his father approved of. He knew that. He had to get over that. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

He was trying so hard and yet the thought of his father’s scorn hung over him like a cloud. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut as if to block the image out. It didn’t work. 

He felt a tear escape from the corner of his eye and begin its slow descent down his cheek. 

He didn’t bother wiping it away.

Arthur wasn’t even sure why he was crying. Perhaps it was the fear of his father’s wrath. Perhaps it was the little voice in his head that told him he wasn’t strong enough to oppose his father like this. Perhaps it was the fear in Merlin’s eyes, and the knowledge that he was part of it.

He could almost hear Uther’s voice, telling him that crying is not future king behavior, Arthur, and we aren’t afforded the luxury of emotion, Arthur, and you’re acting like a girl, Arthur.

Arthur gritted his teeth.

“Merlin.”

It wasn’t a question, or an accusation, or even a statement. It was an acknowledgement. It was a desperate attempt to let Merlin know that Arthur saw him. He saw the way his hands trembled and his eyes shifted to the ground. He saw his fear and his uncertainty. That he saw it and it was alright.

Merlin looked back at him.

“You...” Arthur tried to speak but the sentence died in his throat.

“I need you to know,” he tried again. “It’s not a bad thing. To me. Not anymore.”

Merlin tightened his mouth into a line and nodded, tears brimming in his eyes.

“Your secret is safe with me, Merlin. I swear on my life.”

Arthur smiled gently, and reached forward to nudge Merlin’s shoulder.

“That means you can stop crying.”

Merlin let out a short laugh, and wiped his eyes. He grinned.

“Likewise.”

“I’m not crying,” Arthur said defensively. “I’m sweating.”

“From your eyes?”

“Yes.”

Merlin laughed, blinking away the rest of the tears. The sun emerged from behind the clouds, his eyes were filled with a soft blue fire, and the color returned to his face; the light was begging the world to behold him and the forest had joined with a chorus of soft praise in the leaves and in the wind. The world was singing for Merlin, and Arthur felt his heart ache to join in.

“That’s better,” Arthur said softly, smiling.

They fell silent again, but it was different. It was unhurried, promising nothing but serenity and smiles. 

After a moment, Arthur spoke again.

“Can I ask you something?”

Merlin nodded.

“Why did you become so careless? I assume you’ve been using it since you arrived here, so why now did you let your guard down?”

Merlin gave Arthur a grin.

“You’re going to hate the answer.”

Arthur chuckled.

“I’d still like to know.”

“Well,” Merlin began. “I thought you’d figured it out already.”

“Pardon?”

“Before the cloak incident. I thought you knew,” Merlin shrugged. “Did you never suspect?”

Arthur coughed, and took a sudden interest in a stick by his foot. Merlin’s eyes widened and a gleeful smile lit up his face.

“You’re joking.”

Arthur turned red.

“Not even once?”

Arthur shook his head.

Merlin laughed, but caught himself and fixed Arthur with an affectionate look.

“You, Arthur Pendragon, truly are an enigma,” He mused.

Arthur frowned. 

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You are the smartest man I’ve ever met, as well as the stupidest.”

Arthur chose to ignore the latter, opting instead to tilt his head and smile.

“Do you really think I’m the smartest person you’ve ever met?”

“Hang on, I said MAN on purpose. Gwen far outranks you.”

Arthur agreed silently, but was still irritated.

“Thank you, I suppose,” he said, giving Merlin another nudge on the shoulder.

“I know you’re not an idiot, Arthur,” Merlin said, looking him in the eyes. “That’s why I assumed you knew. I’ve never been the best at hiding it, so once I was sure you knew I decided to test you. See when you would admit you’d noticed.” He chuckled and glanced up at the sky. “Of course, I never planned on you finding out the way you did.”

“Why on earth would you take that risk?” Arthur demanded. “What if I had executed you?”

“Ah, but you didn’t.”

“What if I had told Uther?”

“But you didn’t.”

“Merlin-!”

“I trust you, Arthur,” Merlin said easily. “I always had my doubts, but I thought you knew and you hadn’t executed me yet, so I figured it was time to tell you.”

“I- Thank you. For letting me know, I suppose. I didn’t react very well, the first time,” Arthur admitted guiltily. “I felt as if I was betraying my father by not turning you in.”

“Thank you for not turning me in, then,” Merlin said. “I don’t care much about what you almost did or what you thought you should do. It’s what you actually did.”

Arthur nodded, and tightened his mouth into a thin line. He looked up at Merlin.

“My father means well, most of the time. But what he did to your people, and what he would’ve done to you,” Arthur’s voice faded. “I’m sorry.”

Merlin shook his head.

“Don’t apologize for him. You are not your father.”

Arthur nodded, and sighed.

“He told me I was too attached to you to be king.” He said after a moment.

Merlin’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why?”

“He told me you made me reckless, and that you cloud my decision making,” Arthur closed his eyes again, and took a deep breath. “He said I was Camelot’s future, and I couldn’t keep endangering myself to save your life.”

“You? Saving my life? Seems a bit backwards.”

Arthur glared, and Merlin grinned. Arthur softened and sighed.

“I s’pose I was afraid he was right.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, sire; your decision making is horrible even without my help.”

Arthur chuckled, and opened his eyes to look at Merlin directly.

“You really do mean a lot to me, Merlin. I consider you my closest friend.” He said softly.

“I consider you a prat,” Merlin said. “But you’re a prat who happens to be my closest friend.”

Arthur swatted him.

“I think,” Merlin began with a grin. “That this is the most you have ever talked about your own feelings in one sitting.”

“Right. And It’ll never happen again.” Arthur warned.

“I’ll enjoy it while it lasts, then.” Merlin said, voice a lot softer than Arthur had expected.

They began to stand up. Arthur picked up the pack from where it had fallen off earlier and replaced it on his shoulders, prompting a confused look from Merlin. Arthur raised his eyebrows.

“What is it?”

“You got stabbed twenty minutes ago,” Merlin pointed out.

“And you healed me 19 minutes ago,” Arthur countered. “Unless you’re admitting you half-assed it.”

“I can assure you I full-assed it.”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem. Glad we agree.”

Merlin found no reason to object.

They began to walk towards home in an easy silence. After around an hour Arthur spoke again.

“I have one last question.”

“Yes?”

“The first day we met, we had a disagreement.”

“Is that what we’re calling it? You were about to kill me.”

Arthur paused, thinking.

“A slightly violent disagreement.”

“Better! But still a criminally major understatement. Go on.”

“All of those mistakes I made. Besides allegedly-“

“Try definitely.”

“-trying to kill you. The tripping, the flail getting caught, all of it. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Can’t accept that you may have just messed up, can you?”

“I don’t mess up. That was you.”

“Maybe.”

“Just admit it!”

“Nothing to admit, I’m afraid.”

Arthur fell silent, fuming. He spoke again after a moment.

“But it WAS you, right?”

“For God’s sake, Arthur.” Merlin laughed.

“I have to know.”

“It might have been me,” Merlin admitted. “But I didn’t have to do much; your own ineptitude was a fantastic starting point.”

Arthur pouted, but eventually melted into a smile and gave a good natured laugh.

“S’pose I should thank you, then. If you’d have died I’d probably still be an ass.” Arthur mused.

Merlin gave him a quizzical look and laughed out loud.

“The way you phrased that implies you’re not still an ass.”

“I am NOT an ass,” Arthur said defiantly, glaring sideways at Merlin. “I’m a ROYAL ass.”

Merlin didn’t stop laughing the entire way back to Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I don’t know how proud I am of this one as it’s a bit dialogue heavy but I hope you enjoy it!! I love our boys and I love when they’re being sweethearts to each other. I love you all; thank you for still sticking with my story!! 💕💕💕💕
> 
> Edit: feel free to skip this if you don’t care about my personal life lmao! I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has commented such lovely things on all of my fics, including this one. I always worry that my fics feel colorless and empty because I struggle writing anything more than dialogue or jokes. I have something called aphantasia. which is a fancy way of saying that my brain lacks the ability for visualization. I can’t see any images in my head whatsoever, so the process of writing about facial expressions or nature or just things of that nature is very strange for me. I don’t mean to say it’s impossible at all; there are a huge number of successful writers with aphantasia; it just personally gives me a hard time lmao. 
> 
> Because of this, it means so much to me when I read nice comments!! I just love you all so much! Ever since I started posting on this site you’ve all been nothing but supportive and I can’t thank you enough. I hope you enjoy my work, thank you for reading, and have a beautiful day ❤️


	5. Bad Feelings and Banquets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur return to Camelot, and they get the impression that Uther is planning something.

When the two arrived back to Camelot, the first thing Merlin noticed was the fact that the gates were open.

The first thing Arthur noticed was that his father was standing in front of said gates, arms crossed and face stoic as ever. He wasn’t facing the road, and didn’t seem to have noticed them yet.

Arthur suddenly became very aware that he was carrying his own supplies while his servant walked right beside him, arms free. Merlin seemed to notice this too, and made a grab for the pack. Arthur jerked away, catching Merlin by surprise.

“Don’t be an ass,” Merlin hissed. “I can walk the last hundred yards perfectly fine.”

“Are you sure your arms won’t snap like twigs?” 

“Very funny. Give it.”

“Pardon me, was that an order? Last I checked, I’m the one who gives the orders.”

“You’ve carried that thing for miles, just hand it over.”

“I’m carrying it.” Arthur said firmly.

Merlin fixed him with a truly exasperated expression, and for a brief moment he reminded Arthur of Gaius.

“How often do I ASK for more work?”

“Fair point. But I’m keeping the pack.”

Merlin sighed.

“Your father won’t be pleased.”

“I’m aware.”

“Why do it, then?”

“Strength training.”

Arthur was lying, but that much was obvious. Merlin, mercifully, left it alone. Occasionally, he showed some indication that there actually was a brain floating around in his head after all.

When they arrived at the gates, Uther noted the pack with a sharp glare and tilted his head slightly, giving Merlin a cold look.

“Is there something wrong with your arms, boy?” He asked dangerously.

Merlin opened his mouth but Arthur interjected hurriedly.

“I offered to carry my own things as a token of gratitude.”

“Gratitude? What for?” Uther demanded.

“We were attacked,” Arthur explained. He gave his father a smug smile that he immediately regretted but was also rather proud of. “Merlin saved my life.”

“Did he?” Uther said, and gave Merlin a painfully fake smile. His expression was level and, at the moment, filled with an emotion Arthur couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“Is that true? Did you save my son’s life?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Merlin said, and left it at that. Arthur could feel the resentment in his words and a sudden wave of sadness washed over him. His friend and his father. Perhaps he’d had visions of camaraderie between the two before but it was becoming increasingly clear that he simply couldn’t have the best of both worlds. He pushed this thought out of his mind, forcing himself into an optimistic mindset.

Uther wasn’t perfect. Anyone could see that, including Arthur. But he was Arthur’s father, and despite the sins of his past and the vague irritation he often carried toward him, Arthur found he could never truly hate him. 

“Well, that’s worth celebrating. You’ve done a great thing for Camelot, and you will be honored for it,” Uther smiled at Merlin, who received it with the air of someone who has just been handed a venomous snake. “We’ll have a banquet to celebrate you tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, your majesty.” Merlin said curtly. 

Uther’s face was worrying. Arthur could sense the false sincerity, could read in the cruel curl of his lips and the squared shoulders that something was amiss, but for all his studying he couldn’t come up with an answer as to what or why.

“Arthur,” Uther said, turning to him. The lines left his face and he nodded, allowing himself a small smile. “I’m happy to see you safe and sound.” 

“Thank you, Father.” Arthur said, fighting to keep the suspicion out of his voice. 

In general, Uther always had an ulterior motive when he spoke to Arthur. Compliments were a warning that mistakes in that area wouldn’t be tolerated anymore, gentle criticisms were threats, and public speeches praising his son were a demand that his reputation be upheld. But these words were upsetting not for their deception, but for their honesty.

Uther meant what he had said. He was happy Arthur was home.

Arthur was angry. Why? Why couldn’t his father just commit to being either caring or cold? Why did he have to plant such innumerable seeds of doubt and fear in Arthur’s mind and then water them with his words, only to then show a sign that he cared about Arthur. It wasn’t fair. 

Arthur almost wanted to hate him, but he found no resentment in his heart. It was his father; he had to love him. That was how it had to be, right?

Uther left first, and the two men waited for him to be gone before starting inside.

“He’s planning something.” Arthur said in a low voice.

“Thank god you brought it up; I didn’t fancy being the one to point out how strange he was acting.”

Arthur didn’t answer. His jaw was set and his eyes downcast, the soft blue hardening to cold steel as he knit his brows together and thought of his father. Merlin noticed this and frowned, and began to jog a little to get back next to the prince as he stormed down the hallways, deep in thought. They walked in silence until they reached Arthur’s chambers, wherein Merlin eased the door shut behind them and Arthur simply stood rooted to the floor, gazing out the window with a blank expression.

Merlin obviously knew something was wrong, but mercifully didn’t ask any questions as he set about helping Arthur out of his clothes and into new ones. 

“The banquet, tomorrow,” Arthur began. “I don’t trust it.”

Merlin hummed in agreement, struggling too much with the ties on Arthur’s shirt for a verbal response.

“They take weeks to plan, at least,” Arthur continued. “There’s no way in hell he just threw this together. He’s planning something and-“ 

He stopped himself.

This caught Merlin’s attention, and he glanced up, confused.

“What? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” He said quickly. “I was merely thinking about how it’s a shame that reminding you of your stupidity is a responsibility that falls solely to me.”

“I hope for all of our sakes that you’re a better king than you are a liar.”

Arthur smiled despite himself, then sighed. He allowed Merlin to slip him out of his shirt and into a new one before speaking again.

“I think it’s got something to do with you,” Arthur admitted.

“Makes sense. Perhaps they’ll finally execute me publicly.”

“How optimistic of you.”

“Do you think they’ll burn me at the stake like a proper sorcerer or just cut my head off?” Merlin mused.

“Neither, because you’re not being executed.” Arthur said firmly.

Merlin sighed forlornly.

“And here I thought I would finally get a day off.”

Merlin gave Arthur a slightly more serious look and spoke again.

“What do you think he’s planning?” 

Arthur didn’t answer right away. When he finally did speak his voice was far softer than he intended it to be.

“I’m not sure, but it won’t be good.”

“Shall we skip the banquet, then?”

Arthur thought of how it would look to his father if he skipped a banquet that was supposedly being held in his servant’s honor, the same servant that had recently been accused of influencing Arthur towards unseemly behavior.

He shook his head.

“No, my father would literally kill you, and metaphorically kill me.”

“Fair enough. So what do we do?”

“We go, I suppose. But I’m going to be keeping an eye on him,” Arthur said dejectedly. “As much as I don’t want to believe he would harm you, I’m not entirely convinced.” 

Merlin gave him a sorrowful look. Arthur shrugged and replied with a sad smile.

“I’ve only just recently realized how flawed he really is. The idea takes getting used to.”

“I can imagine,” Merlin said quietly. He neatly placed the discarded clothes he still held into a basket and crossed the room to stand beside Arthur at the window. The night sky was now inky black and scattered with brilliantly white stars as far as the eye could see.

“You already know how I feel about Uther,” Merlin started softly. “But I do believe that there has been one truly good thing to come out of his reign.” 

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and gave Merlin a suspicious look.

“And what might that be?”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Assume it isn’t.”

Merlin smiled.

“It’s you.”

Arthur’s eyes widened slightly, and he made a sound as if he’d been punched in the stomach. In a metaphorical way, he had been. He allowed a small smile to form on his lips, and he placed a hand gently on Merlin’s shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Merlin shrugged.

“You don’t need to thank me for telling the truth.”

Arthur stared for a moment. Merlin’s face was honest and open, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

Arthur abruptly pulled Merlin forward and into a hug, surprising the both of them. He lingered for slightly longer than he probably should have, but was struck with how long it had been since he’d had a proper hug and couldn’t bring himself to pull away just yet. This, he thought, was definitely not future king behavior. 

However, Arthur found that he didn’t quite care at the moment. 

“Thank you.” He said again, voice barely audible. 

Arthur released Merlin and coughed, feeling slightly embarrassed at his sudden effusive behavior.

“Not a word about this,” He warned. “Not to anyone.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Merlin grinned.

Arthur nodded and punched Merlin’s shoulder in an attempt to diffuse the situation, which prompted a strained smile on Merlin’s part.

“Ouch.”

“I barely touched you; don’t be such a wimp.”

Merlin tightened his mouth into a line and raised his eyebrows. He took several steps back, and began to whisper something. Arthur recognized the language this time.

“Hang on-!”

Arthur whirled around and saw Merlin’s eyes flash gold just as he was socked in the face with one of his own pillows.

He spluttered and swatted it out of the air.

“MERLIN!”

“To be fair, I wasn’t aiming for your head.” Merlin lied.

Arthur, once the anger had subsided, picked up the pillow with interest.

“There are a lot of sharp, heavy, and disgusting things in this room,” he noted. “Yet you chose a pillow?”

“That was a threat.” Merlin said with mock seriousness. 

“Not a very intimidating one, then.”

“Worth a shot.” Merlin grinned.

“It’s late,” Arthur said matter-of-factly. “You should get going.”

“Ah, of course. You need your beauty sleep, I understand.”

“I do NOT need beauty sleep,” Arthur said defensively.

“Whatever you say, sire.”

“Get out.” Then, as an afterthought.  
“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. See you tomorrow, I s’pose.”

Merlin ducked out of the room, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts. He hated when that happened.

Arthur went over his new absolutes.

Absolute number one: Merlin meant more to Arthur than he cared to admit.

Absolute number two: Uther would take any chance he could to get rid of Merlin.

Absolute number three: Arthur would sooner die than let that happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is! Apologies for the late update and the shortness of this chapter; I’m in a storm of AP testing right now and haven’t had much time to write! I also apologize for yet another filler chapter but something is about to Go Down and this chapter mostly acts as a setup for what’s coming. Stay tuned!! Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me and this story, and I love you all so much 💕💕💕💕


	6. Mistakes and Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The banquet goes even better than Uther had hoped.

It was too hot and there were too many people. That was all Arthur could think. 

He didn’t recognize very many of them. Arthur could guarantee that none of them would know who Merlin is, either by name or face. 

Merlin seemed to notice this too, and gave Arthur a sideways glance that he returned with a slight shrug. His eyes were darkened as he scanned the crowd for any sign of trouble.

Merlin was obviously uncomfortable as well; he didn’t have much experience sitting at the actual table during banquets. His eyes were carefully trained on the plate in front of him, and his hands were folded neatly in his lap. Arthur sat between Merlin and Morgana, who was fiddling with her silverware lazily and scanning the room with lidded eyes and a raised eyebrow. She turned halfway in her chair and elbowed Arthur.

“Do you recognize any of these people?” She asked in a low voice.

Arthur shook his head, not looking at her.

“They’re obviously nobility,” Morgana mused. “No commoners dress like that.” She jerked her head at a short man whose outfit included a high collar embroidered with elaborate floral patterns. Arthur was hardly listening, his head filled close to bursting with worst case scenarios.

“Morgana, when were you told this banquet would be occurring?”

She shrugged. 

“Last night. Uther said Merlin had saved your life,” she leaned forward and past Arthur to address Merlin. “Is that true? You saved him?”

Merlin grinned, and glanced at Arthur. 

“Yeah, I did.”

“Oh, I need EVERY detail.” 

Morgana grabbed the back of Arthur’s chair and pushed him backwards with startling ease, shoving her own chair into the space that was created.

“Morgana-!” Arthur spluttered.

“It’s rude to talk when others are having conversations, Arthur.” Morgana tutted. Merlin snickered, earning himself a sharp look from Arthur.

Morgana leaned forward in her chair and folded her hands neatly, giving Arthur an angelic smile.

Merlin shot him an apologetic grin but his eyes betrayed his amusement.

“Now, Merlin,” Morgana said gleefully. “What exactly happened?”

Merlin looked to Arthur for support, who was mouthing “shut up” wildly, along with a wide variety of obscenities. This also, Arthur thought vaguely, would not be considered future king behavior.

Before Merlin could say anything, the room fell silent, and Uther rose from his chair.

“Friends, I bid you welcome,” he began, plastering a bright smile on his face. Arthur winced. It was painfully forced, and he hated seeing his father when he was like this.

“We gather here to celebrate not only the safe return of my son, but the tireless work of the man who is responsible for his return.” Uther’s voice boomed throughout the silent hall, and as he leaned down slightly to grab his goblet he gave Arthur a grave look that chilled him to the bone. A warning.

Arthur’s mouth was suddenly very dry.

“Now, I would like to personally acknowledge this brave young man myself!” Uther bellowed merrily, and gestured to Merlin as applause broke out amongst the guests. Merlin exchanged a suspicious glance with Arthur, who could do nothing but stare.

“Come up here, boy!”

Merlin carefully rose from his seat and moved to stand beside the king, who clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled. Arthur moved a hand to the side of his chair, poised above his right boot. Morgana shot him a strange look, and motioned for Gwen to come over. Uther was rambling about Merlin’s bravery and quick thinking, managing to talk for ages despite knowing nothing about what had actually happened. 

Gwen appeared by Morgana’s side moments later, face filled with concern.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing good,” Morgana whispered. “Look at Uther.”

Gwen and Arthur both began to study the king closely, and noticed his eyes kept flickering to a certain spot in the crowd. 

“Where’s he looking?” Arthur asked.

“I’m not sure,” Morgana said, and she gently took the pitcher Gwen was carrying and set it in front of her. “Could you do me a favor? Fetch me a brooch from my chambers, will you?” 

Gwen nodded grimly and took off.

“A brooch? What the hell are you-?”

“It’s a code. She’s bringing me a dagger,” Morgana hissed. 

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. Morgana rolled her eyes. 

“You’re not the only who distrusts him.”

“He’s my FATHER, I don’t distrust him!” Arthur said defensively.

“The dagger sticking out of your boot says otherwise,” Morgana pointed out.  
“That was my first tip that something is wrong. If Merlin’s life is in any danger, I’ll not just be standing by.”

Arthur nodded grimly, and she returned it with an equally grave expression.

Uther was still ranting, but suddenly ceased and gestured to Arthur expectantly. The crowd broke into applause again.

“What?” Arthur said stupidly.

Uther chuckled heartily.

“I said, come join me!”

Arthur gave Morgana a look, and she nodded. Gwen returned shortly thereafter and slipped the dagger from where it was hidden up her sleeve and transferred it to Morgana’s place, a napkin slid over to conceal it. Morgana thanked her quietly and grabbed Arthur’s arm as he passed her, giving it a gentle squeeze. A reassurance.

Arthur stepped up and stood beside Merlin, purposefully placing himself between him and Uther. Uther clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave the crowd a big smile.

“And now, I’d like to propose a toast,” Uther announced. He grabbed two two goblets off of his table and gave one to each of the men beside him before picking up his own.

Merlin and Arthur exchanged a grim look. 

“Don’t you dare drink that,” Arthur hissed under his breath.

“It’s white wine, anyways,” Merlin whispered. “I hate white wine.”

“Here’s to my son, and the man who saved his life.” Uther raised his goblet to the sky.

Arthur decided that he had to do something, and, not knowing what else to do, did the only thing he could think of. He threw his goblet.

It hit Merlin square in the chest, drenching him in wine and causing him to drop his own drink.

There was no sound except for the clatter of metal on the stone floor as the two goblets fell.

Arthur coughed.

“Sorry, everyone,” He said sheepishly. “Just a bit clumsy.”

The crowd laughed tentatively, exchanging concerned glances with each other.

Morgana and Gwen were leaning on each other for support, doubled over in silent laughter. Uther shot them an exasperated look but turned to the crowd with a chuckle and clasped a hand on both of their shoulders. 

His eyes flitted to the same spot in the crowd again.

Arthur tensed.

Merlin was staring at the same spot, jaw set. 

A man stood up, and produced a sword from beneath the table he sat at. His eyes were darkened with malice and he carried the blade with the air of one who has killed dozens and will kill dozens more.

Arthur tightened his hands into fists.

Morgana let her hand rest on the dagger’s hilt.

Gwen grabbed a fork from Morgana’s plate and concealed it in her sleeve.

Merlin took a half step closer to Arthur.

Uther didn’t move at all.

This was planned. 

“Arthur Pendragon.” the man said.

The tension was palpable.

“Who are you?” Arthur demanded.

The man didn’t answer, instead breaking into a dead sprint towards him, sword angled to impale. Arthur made a swift reach for his boot, knowing the dagger wouldn’t do much good but preferring it to being unarmed. Uther took several measured steps back, and Arthur saw Gwen and Morgana racing forward with their respective weapons drawn. The pair of guards from the back door were already halfway to the front of the room. The man reached Arthur in seconds and made a wild jab for his head.

There was a shout, and an explosion.

The man sailed backwards, sword flying out of his hand.

He hit the ground with a sickening crunch, and the guests stared, unsure how to react.

Arthur looked to his right.

Merlin had his hand outstretched and a hint of gold fading from his eyes. 

“What have you done?” Arthur whispered.

“Saved your life. Again.” Merlin replied, giving him a humorless grin.

The guards had their hands on Merlin within seconds, and were already hauling him off before Uther even gave the order.

The guests began filing out, tripping over themselves in their attempts to get away.  
“Father,” Arthur said desperately. “He saved my life.” 

He hated how weak he sounded.

“He didn’t save your life,” Uther said in a low voice. “He revealed his treachery. He lied to you. To us all.”

“Execute me, then.” Arthur said, voice growing in volume.

“Arthur, don’t do this right now.”

“Execute me. I knew. I’ve known for ages.”

“Arthur-“

“That man has saved my life more times than you can imagine!” He roared.

“He’s a sorcerer. You know the law.”

Morgana stepped forward, fire in her eyes.

“The law is cruel, as are you.” 

Uther sighed.  
“Don’t get involved, Morgana.”

“You knew that man would be coming,” she hissed. “You kept looking at him. You set this entire thing up to frame Merlin.”

“How dare you accuse me of-!”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Arthur said, rounding on his father. “You put my life in danger just to have an excuse to imprison an innocent man!”

“Your life was NEVER in danger,” Uther growled. “I love you, Arthur. You are my only son and the heir to the throne; why would I ever risk your life?”

Arthur was breathing heavily. Morgana came to stand by him, her words venomous when she spoke again.

“You paid off that man.”

“I had to.”

“Had to? For what?” Arthur demanded.

“For your sake. You cannot see it yet but that boy was corrupting you. He had you under his spell; that is why you believed him to be your friend.”

“You can’t write off everything you disagree with as evil,” Morgana hissed. “Merlin was a better man than you will ever be.”

“You’re going to kill him for saving my life? Is that how we repay our debts? With innocent blood?” Arthur removed the dagger from his boot, causing Uther to falter slightly.

“I didn’t know he was a sorcerer.” He said, keeping his voice level.

“Then why would you do this?” Morgana said quietly as she drew her own dagger.

“I knew the boy would protect you,” Uther said quietly. “I thought he would die in your place. I thought it merciful to give him a chance to be a martyr, but he made the choice to use magic. I did not force his hand.” 

Uther fixed Arthur with a cold glare.

“Someday you will thank me for this.”

“I will never forgive you.”

“He was a SORCERER.”

“He was my best friend.”

“You’re going to be king someday. Your best friend will be the law and your closest ally the sword. It is the only way order is maintained.”

“You’re wrong.”

“You will learn, someday,” Uther said, never breaking eye contact. “I care about you more than anything in this world, Arthur. Your safety is paramount to the future of this kingdom.”

“Then why have you decided to kill the man who has been singlehandedly saving my life for YEARS?” Arthur growled.

“It was a false sense of security. He’s a sorcerer; they are not to be trusted.”

“If he wanted Arthur dead he would’ve done it by now!” Morgana insisted.

Uther’s expression turned stoic, and his eyes grew cold.

“I suggest you two reconsider where your loyalties should lie.”

“For the first time in my life, Father, I have never been more certain.” Arthur spat. He felt rough hands on his arms and was pulled backwards suddenly.

“Lock him in his chambers, and Morgana and the maid in hers.” Uther said firmly. 

The guards seized the two women as well and began dragging them towards the door. Their screams and pleading echoed down the halls like a siren before finally fading away.

Only Arthur remained, now, two guards holding each of his arms behind his back.

“One day, Arthur,” Uther said. “You’ll see that this was good for you.” He smiled. It was sincere.

Arthur spat in his face.

“Damn you.”

Uther let out a roar and clawed at his face wildly as if he’d been burned.

“Dungeons.” He growled, eyes filled with a cold rage that Arthur had never seen before. 

The guards began to haul Arthur away. 

He didn’t resist anymore.

Arthur’s head was pounding and thoughts whipped by and were gone before he could grasp them fully.

Absolutes, he told himself. Absolutes.

Absolute number one: Merlin has been found out and will be executed.

Absolute number two: He was to be locked up as well.

Absolute number three: Uther had just made a terrible mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Only 1 or 2 chapters left!! Sorry for the delay on thsi one, I was rewatching some earlier episodes for research purposes lmao. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope you liked it enough to stick with me! 
> 
> Also don’t worry; I know morgana and ESPECIALLY Gwen had very minute parts in this chapter, but they will be back in full force next time, don’t worry. ;) 
> 
> I love you all so much, and thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed!!


	7. Jail Time and Just Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur are imprisoned in the dungeon, which means they have some time to talk.

Arthur’s shoulder broke his fall as he was tossed into the cell, sending a jolt of pain up through his body. He turned and glared up at the guards who offered only apologetic winces in return. One of them stowed Arthur’s confiscated dagger in his belt, and nodded to the others as a signal to leave.

Arthur banged his fist against the bars and roared obscenities at their backs to no avail. It was nearly pitch black in the cells by now; the guards had only left one torch burning at the far end of the hallway.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Arthur startled and looked around wildly, knuckles white on the bars.

“Merlin?”

“I’m down the hall a bit, by the torch.”

Arthur pushed himself against the far end of his cell and craned his neck to see. There was a hand sticking out from one of the sets of bars and waving cheerfully.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur called out. “We should’ve just skipped it like you said.”

He heard a sigh.

“Don’t blame yourself; Uther would’ve found another way eventually.”

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. There was a distinct lack of fear in Merlin’s voice, as well as a complete absence of hope. Nervousness crept into his own voice when he spoke again.

“Why don’t you sound worried?”

“I am worried. Just, not as much as I ought to be, I s’pose.”

“What does that mean?”

Merlin didn’t answer.

“What does that mean?” Arthur repeated, his voice cracking slightly. He couldn’t see anything except Merlin’s hands gripping the bars, glowing orange from the torchlight. 

Arthur heard him sigh again.

“I’ve been bracing to die ever since I came to Camelot.“ Merlin said finally. His voice was infuriatingly casual. As if his own death were as simple to discuss as the weather. As if it didn’t matter.

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Well, it’s true. Every time I’ve been accused of sorcery, or arrested, or thrown in here, or all the times I’ve offered my life in your place? I never thought I’d make it this far, to be honest.”

“You talk as if this is the end of the road.”

“Well it is, isn’t it?” Merlin sighed, and his grip on the bars loosened. “You’ll be a great king, someday. I was hoping I would be around to see it, but maybe my death is meant to be.”

“Quit talking rubbish. I’m getting us out of here.”

“Maybe it’s my destiny to die for you,” Merlin said quietly. “Maybe it was always going to end like this.”

“Shut up,” Arthur said fiercely. “You’re not dying.”

“Maybe,” Merlin replied listlessly.

Arthur reared back and punched the bars as hard as he could, ignoring the pain that shot through his knuckles. He took a deep breath.

“You have magic for God’s sake. Can’t you just unlock the door?”

There was a silence. The hands had disappeared from view.

“Merlin?”

Another sigh.

“I can, yes. It wouldn’t be hard.” Merlin admitted.

“Then why the hell haven’t you done it already?” Arthur demanded, fuming.

“What are we meant to do once we’re out? Leave Camelot? Hide for the rest of my life? You’re too stubborn to not come with me, and you need to be here. It is your destiny to unite the land and be a hundred times the king Uther ever was, and it is my destiny to help you.”

“Merlin-“

“If I escape you’ll come looking for me. If we both escape we can never come back. There’s no way around it, Arthur. I have to die.”

“Stop.”

“There’s no way to-“

“SHUT UP! We’re both getting out of here. End of story.”

Merlin laughed humorlessly.

“It’s nice, you know? You yelling at me and barking orders as if nothing’s changed.”

“Nothing has changed. You’re still an idiot.”

Merlin was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was careful.

“It’s been an honor to serve you, Arthur. I hope you don’t miss me too badly.”

Arthur hated this. Merlin had given up. 

“I won’t have to, because we’re both going to get out of this. It’ll all be okay.” Arthur said, not even fully believing it himself.

“You’ll be okay. You always would have been; Uther would never kill you.”

“You are NOT dying. You’re going to unlock both of our doors and we are going to find Gwen and Morgana and work something out.”

“I’ve grown to quite like you, against my own will,” Merlin said softly, ignoring him. “You’re going to be a great king.” 

“Merlin,” Arthur said in a low voice. “Let me be perfectly clear. I will NOT let you die. If you think that I’ll just accept that-“ He stopped himself before the emotion could choke his words. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to be king if you won’t be there by my side.”

There was no answer.

Arthur’s voice was frail and shaking with emotion. He didn’t care about acting like a future king at the moment.

“I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for always being an ass and berating you every day for things that aren’t your fault.”

Arthur’s eyes began to well with tears. 

“I’m sorry for calling you stupid and cowardly all the time when you’re the most intelligent, most brave, most loyal person I’ve ever met.”

Arthur sank to the floor of the cell, and grabbed a handful of straw to try and ground himself. It didn’t work. His vision was blurry with tears and his head was pounding.

“I’m sorry that you lived in fear for so long.”

He let the tears escape.

“I’m sorry for everything.”

Arthur didn’t hear anything. He bit his knuckle and tried to keep his voice from shaking too much. He wasn’t succeeding.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

The silence was deafening.

“Please don’t leave me.”

He allowed the sobs to engulf him, and he buried his head in his hands. Pathetic, wasn’t it? If Arthur had been told he would be imprisoned and openly cry over a servant who also had magic three years ago, he’d have laughed in the messenger’s face. But now, all he could do was think about the days where Merlin had gone, or Arthur had given him the day off, or he was in hiding after being falsely accused one of the several times it had happened. Of the loneliness he felt as he sat in bed well past the usual hour and ate his breakfast cold. Of the absence of Merlin’s infuriating “rise and shine!” and servants who were far too respectful. He thought of how he always longed to hear a joke or to receive a playful jab, or to see Merlin’s face during those days. And then, he thought of living in that same state for the rest of his life.

He couldn’t bear it. 

Suddenly, he heard a soft creaking noise as his cell door eased open.

“I thought we agreed you’d never talk about your feelings again.”

Arthur’s head shot up, and Merlin was standing in front of the open door, a sad smile on his face. Arthur couldn’t decide whether to punch him or hug him, so he just stared.

Merlin knelt in front of him and sighed.

“I’m sorry; I don’t know what came over me,” he said softly. “I didn’t know I mattered that much to you.”

Arthur stared at him openly, allowing his eyes to trace every line and every curve, taking in every color and shape and detail. Merlin was here, and he was alive. Arthur was almost afraid to blink.

He pulled Merlin into a hug, gripping at the fabric of his shirt tightly as if afraid he’d disappear. 

“If you had let yourself die, I would’ve killed you,” Arthur whispered.

Merlin laughed.

“I’m not going to die, so I suppose you won’t kill me?”

“Still thinking about it,” Arthur said. He finally released Merlin, who gave him a reassuring smile and gestured to the door.

“Shall we go get Gwen and Morgana, then?”

Arthur nodded, but hesitated before getting up.

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Can you please stop trying to die for me? It’s getting rather annoying.”

“Someone has to keep you on your toes, sire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh boy that was angsty. Apologies for the shortness of this one; I’ve got a bigger one coming and the pacing was wrong to cram this conversation into that one as well, so now it’s its own chapter! Enjoy this angsty interlude and a rare moment of Arthur Being Vulnerable™️! Thank you for reading and sticking with the sorry, I love you all 💕


	8. Positivity and Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur has a plan, and Merlin definitely won’t like it.

Arthur was operating in a sort of trance at the moment. The emotional exhaustion had set in and he found himself caught in a mental bubble of turmoil, wherein the various attempts his mind made to process both the conversation with Merlin and the all too sudden realization that Uther was more horrible than he bargained for ultimately ended up melting into one seething mass of panic. His brain had taken the events of the day and put them into a pile with a seal around it to prevent Arthur from being distracted, so he operated outside of his emotions and managed to hold his own despite the white noise. His actions didn’t seem quite like his own as he rose from the floor and watched Merlin whisper what he assumed was a spell and send the two guards into a deep sleep. He blinked.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

Merlin shrugged.

“I’ve only done it once or twice. Never really get the chance to use that one.”

“Ah.”

Then, when the implications of what Merlin had said actually sank in, Arthur paused.

“Wait, when have you used it before?”

“That’s a story for another time,” Merlin grinned. “We should get going.”

Arthur was deeply unsatisfied with that answer but was in no mood to argue.

They made their way carefully to Morgana’s chambers, periodically ducking into alcoves or taking alternate routes to avoid the patrolling guards. On one such occasion while they were crammed into a doorway that was entirely too small for the both of them, Merlin fixed Arthur was a suspicious look.

”You do have a plan, right?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Oh, I know that face.”

“What face?”

“That one. I’m not going to like it, am I?”

“Naturally.”

“Is it going to get you killed?”

“Hopefully not.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“I know.”

“You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

Merlin groaned, and when the coast was clear they sprinted the last hundred yards to Morgana’s chambers. There were guards posted outside who Merlin sent to the floor in seconds with a quick spell.

“The sleeping one? Again? That’s not very creative of you.”

“They’re unharmed and they’re out of our way. I refuse to take any criticism.” 

Arthur almost smiled at the banter. It was a comfort; a shred of familiarity among the chaos of the day.

Merlin eased the door open.

The two women were in the center of the room, conversing in hushed tones and looking incredibly worried. Upon hearing the door their heads whipped around simultaneously, and a huge smile dawned on Morgana’s face. 

“Merlin!” She cried, racing to his side and trapping him in a bear hug. Gwen joined in on the other side, squeezing her eyes shut and sighing with relief.

“We were afraid Uther had acted immediately,” Gwen explained once she had released him.

“I’ve still got my head, for the time being. Whether or not I keep it remains to be seen.” Merlin grinned.

Morgana nodded, her joy fading to a steely determination, and turned to Arthur.

“So, what’s the plan? Or haven’t you got one?”

“I’ll need Guinevere to fetch us something from Gaius’s chambers.”

“There’s guards roaming the entire castle my lord,” Gwen said, giving him a confused look. “You want me to go out there?”

“Only if you’re willing,” Arthur said gravely. “I won’t ask you to do it if you don’t want to.”

Gwen nodded and a fierce gleam filled her eyes.

“I’ll do whatever you need.”

Arthur gave her a grateful smile, which she returned.

“Before you go, Gwen,” Morgana said, and began rummaging around in her wardrobe before producing a simple grey cloak. “Put this on. Less chance of getting recognized.”

“Gwen,” Arthur began uneasily. “I want you to promise you won’t ask any questions about what I want you to get.”

“I take that as a sign you want something very questionable.” She sighed.

“Exactly.”

Arthur leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. She recoiled, giving him a slightly fearful look.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Please, Gwen.”

“What are you doing?” She demanded.

“No one will get hurt if all goes well.”

“And this is the only way?”

“From what I can see, yes. We haven’t got time for alternatives.”

“Then I’ll get it,” She said solemnly. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” 

She hugged Morgana and shot the two men a tentative smile before slipping into the cloak and flipping the hood up. She stepped into the hallway carefully and disappeared behind the door.

Merlin shot Arthur a suspicious look.

“It’s alright. Just a precaution.” Arthur insisted.

“Gwen seemed pretty upset,” Merlin pointed out, concern plain in his tone.

“It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t seem like nothing.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said exasperatedly. “The success of this plan depends on you not knowing what it is.”

“That just seems like an excuse.”

“It might be. Just trust me.”

Merlin sighed, thought for a moment, and shrugged.

“Alright, fine. Don’t blame me when it all goes wrong, though.”

Arthur smiled.

Morgana left her spot by the wardrobe and moved to stand by Arthur, crossing her arms.

“So you do have a plan.”

“I always do.”

“Yes, but they’re rarely good ones. Despite that, I’d like to hear this one if I’m allowed.”

“Good, because we’ll need you as well.”

Arthur whispered something into her ear, and she recoiled in much the same way Gwen had.

“Arthur-“

“You don’t have to, I know it’s a lot to ask.”  
Arthur cut in hurriedly. “I won’t think any less of you if you decide not to go through with it.”

Morgana waved a hand dismissively, her eyes landing on Merlin’s face. They were filled with cold determination.

“I’ll do it.”

Arthur gave her a grim smile.

Merlin frowned.

“Trust me, Merlin,” Morgana said uneasily. “You really wouldn’t like it.”

“I suppose I’d have a good reason not to, then?”

“A few good reasons, yes,” Morgana admitted.

“Relax, Merlin.” Arthur drawled. “Now isn’t the time to get so sentimental.”

“It isn’t overly sentimental to not want people you care about to die,” Merlin pointed out.

Arthur clasped a hand to his chest in mock flattery.

“Why, I had no idea you cared so much, Merlin!”

“I’ve changed my mind, actually; I think I’m alright being executed if I’ll be spared from this.”

“Too late!” Morgana said cheerfully.

It was at that moment that Gwen returned and slammed the door behind her. She clutched a bottle of violently pink liquid in her hands, labeled with a drawing of a flower and a skull.

“Oleander.” Merlin breathed. He rounded on Arthur. 

“What the hell are you planning to do?” 

“Merlin-“

“Oleander will kill almost instantly when it’s that concentrated.”

“I know.”

“Just, promise me one thing.” Merlin said, pinching the bridge of his nose and gripping a bedpost to steady himself. “Promise me you’re not about to kill the king.”

“He’s my FATHER, Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed. “I’m not going to KILL him!”

“I didn’t think so. I just wanted to be sure.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Arthur groaned, exasperated.

“That rather limits the potential people you intend to use it on,” Merlin pointed out uneasily.

“If this works, no one will be using it.” Arthur assured him.

“If it works,” Merlin repeated.

“If I may interrupt,” Gwen chimed in. “Shouldn’t we get going? The night’s nearly over.”

The four made their way down the halls boldly, with Merlin sending guards to sleep left and right without reservation. The ease with which Merlin commanded such power and the occasional whispered apologies as he caught the guards by the arms and lowered them gently to the floor left Arthur strangely out of breath. It was such a harmonious juxtaposition of power and sympathy that it seemed impossible. After one such occasion Merlin turned around and glanced up at Arthur, who was still staring.

“D’you think they’ll forgive me? Once it’s all said and done, I mean.”

Arthur nodded and grinned, not daring to speak for fear of what his voice would do.

Merlin smiled so brightly that Arthur felt as if he’d been slapped. It was one of Merlin’s special smiles; the ones that spoke volumes about how he was feeling without him ever saying a word. The smile was slightly nervous, but full to the brim with hope. And, Arthur thought, that was the best part, wasn’t it? The hope. Merlin hadn’t given up. The Merlin he had heard in the cell had disappeared, and been replaced with the Merlin that Arthur knew and loved. 

Arthur nearly stopped walking out of shock. His own brain had betrayed him. That was it. 

Knew and TOLERATED. Knew and CARED FOR. Knew and WOULD RATHER NOT SEE EXECUTED. These were all more acceptable responses. 

Arthur glanced sideways at Merlin and tried not to think too hard about it.

Besides, he thought bitterly. His feelings didn’t matter right now. What mattered was making sure that Merlin kept his head on his shoulders.

They busted into the throne room as a group, wherein Uther was pacing back and forth with his crown dangling from one hand, the other plastered against his forehead. 

Merlin sent the two guards at the door to sleep with a whisper and a motion of his hand. He whispered two more phrases, and the door closed and locked itself.

Uther jerked around to face them and his face drained of color. Ever skilled at appearing stoic, however, he situated his crown back on his head in an almost lazy fashion and fixed the group with a bright smile.

“Arthur! Morgana! I take it you haven’t come to apologize?”

“Far from it, I’m afraid.” Arthur responded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the oleander. Uther faltered slightly, but the fear immediately turned to cold anger.

“Is that your plan, then? Regicide? You can’t expect to usurp my throne merely because you find my way of ruling a little offensive. The kingdom would fall within the week.” Uther said icily.

Arthur didn’t respond, and Uther laughed cruelly.

“You would never kill me, Arthur. You don’t have it in you.”

“I don’t wish to go down that road, Father.” Arthur replied quietly.

“Oh? Then please,” Uther drawled. “What road shall we be taking?”

“You told me once that I am Camelot’s future. That my safety is equivalent to the safety of this kingdom.”

Uther seemed to soften at this, and nodded. 

“And I meant every word of it.”

“You also told me that you would never endanger my life.” 

Uther furrowed his eyebrows, and genuine concern filled his features.

“Yes, of course. And I meant that, too.”

“Then, Father, I suggest you think about the following very carefully.” Arthur said quietly. He uncorked the oleander. Uther’s eyes widened imperceptibly, his face still retaining its overall air of aloofness.

Merlin shifted uneasily behind him. Gwen linked an arm around his right side, and Morgana around his left. 

“I demand that you pardon Merlin, decriminalize the use of magic, and turn Camelot into a safe haven for all those who practice it.” Arthur announced.

Uther laughed out loud, and fixed his son with a venomous smile. 

“I can’t do that, Arthur. You know that.”

“You have an alternative, of course.” Arthur said slowly. He held the oleander bottle up to the light. The bottle glimmered as vividly pink as before; the liquid so opaque that little light was able to pass through it.

“This is poison made from the oleander flower,” he explained. “In this form, one drop can kill in less than five minutes. You’d never have time to reverse its effects, even if you did manage to get Gaius before it was too late.”

Uther watched him warily, a growing fear in his eyes. Arthur’s jaw was set, his eyes cold fire. 

“Arthur, what are you-?” Merlin began to ask but his voice faded as the realization dawned on him. He began to struggle against Morgana and Gwen’s grips, which they had tightened around his arms without him noticing.

“If you refuse to meet my demands, I will drink this entire bottle.”

Uther’s face went pale.

“I’d be dead before I hit the floor, and you’d be without an heir.”

Arthur finished and fixed his father with an expectant look.

“You’re bluffing.” Uther insisted, trying to give off the impression that he was unconvinced but fear creeping into his voice nonetheless.

“Camelot will fall when you are dead, and it will be your fault,” Arthur continued, ignoring him. “If you truly care for me or this kingdom, you will meet my demands.”

“Arthur, what are you doing?” Uther demanded. “Stop this nonsense at once!”

“Arthur-!” Merlin was struggling wildly, but the two women held him tight, exchanging a grim look.

“Please,” Uther begged. “You needn’t do this.”

“You’re correct. I don’t need to do this,” Arthur said. “And I won’t, if you agree to what I’ve asked.”

“You know I can’t do that, Arthur. Sorcery would tear this kingdom apart.”

“Even more than the loss of an heir?”

“STOP THIS!” Uther roared. “I speak to you not as your father, but as your KING! You will drop that bottle immediately and I will consider putting this whole ordeal behind us.”

“Then I speak to you not as your son, but as your crown prince,” Arthur hissed. “You will do as I ask or see the Pendragon dynasty fall. The choice is yours.”

Merlin was still trying to wrench his arms free of Gwen and Morgana’s hands.

“He doesn’t care about ANYTHING!” He cried. “It doesn’t matter to him!”

Uther fixed Arthur with a truly hurt expression, which Arthur returned with nothing but apathy. Uther sighed, and his expression hardened.

“You are not irreplaceable, Arthur. I can just as easily name a new heir apparent.”

“Then my death will be inconsequential,” Arthur said coldly. “And you will prove yourself to be exactly the father I always knew you were.”

Uther scoffed.

“Go on. Throw everything that I have given you away in the name of a serving boy,” He laughed humorlessly and gestured to Merlin, who had given up trying to wrench his arms free and now just stared, mouth agape and tears in his eyes. “You can’t even see how weak he makes you.”

“That is the difference between you and I, Father,” Arthur said. “You see compassion as weakness. You see friendship as a potential for betrayal. You see love as a precursor to hate, and hatred towards others as a form of protection.”

Uther glared, his eyes boring holes into Arthur’s confidence. He gritted his teeth and persisted.

“You weren’t always like this; The man I used to call my father cared for his subjects and would do anything to protect them. He stood for honor and respect and compassion. He told me to be brave and he told me to be kind. He always cared for his son, no matter what the cost.“ 

Arthur’s voice shook.

“You are not that man. And unless you prove that he still lives within you, you are not my father.”

His voice rang out through the empty hall, echoing long after he had ceased to speak. Uther stared at him in silence, his stoic facade starting to crack.

“If you have nothing to say, I believe we’re done here,” Arthur announced. He brought the bottle to his lips. 

Uther was silent.

Arthur tilted the bottle slightly, watching the liquid coarse slowly towards the opening. His mind was numb. He wondered if he would he remembered. If Camelot would remember him. If Merlin would remember him.

“WAIT!” Uther yelled.

Arthur lowered the bottle.

Uther’s face was an unhealthy shade of red, and his fists were clenched so tightly that he might have been preparing to fight.

“I will meet your demands.” He said slowly, as if every syllable pained him. 

Gwen and Morgana burst into tears and turned their death grip on Merlin’s arms into a group hug. Merlin was numb, his eyes wide and tears streaming unhindered down his face. 

Arthur nodded, and closed and pocketed the oleander. He walked up to Uther and extended a hand.

“Someday, father,” he said gently. “You’ll thank me for this.”

Uther accepted his handshake slowly, eyes never leaving his face. His rage was palpable, but contained hints of relief. He really was grateful that his son was alive, despite everything. Arthur realized suddenly that he felt no fear.

For once in his life, Arthur was not afraid.

Merlin broke free of the women and sprinted forward, locking Arthur into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Thank you,” Merlin gasped. He kept repeating himself. Over and over, all he could manage was “Thank you.” Arthur didn’t answer, just held on and squeezed his eyes shut. He allowed himself to smile genuinely for the first time that day.

Absolute number one: Everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One! More! Chapter! Left! Also I’m not too bothered with the historical accuracy of when they discovered oleander/where that flower is native to because I’m quite certain that it wouldn’t work out, so let’s just pretend okay lmao. Thank you so much for reading and keeping up with my story. We’re nearly to the end, and I can’t thank you enough for sticking around. I love you all!!💕


	9. Ordinances and Old Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic is all set to be legalized!! But something isn’t right...

Arthur cried a great deal the following night. Not for sadness, as he was feeling quite the opposite given the decidedly ideal outcome of the previous day’s events. No, Arthur’s tears were of relief. Of joy, even. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and he was finally able to let his guard down; with this came all the emotion he had previously been unable to process, which opted to take the form of tears. And so he smiled into his pillow, tears staining the silk, and slept better than he ever had before. For once, it was all okay.

When the orange light finally pierced the curtain and a familiar singsong voice coaxed him awake, he opened his eyes with a soft smile already playing on his lips.

“Uther’s sent for you to sign the new ordinance about legalizing magic.” Merlin said excitedly as he parted the curtains and set about preparing Arthur’s place at the table.

Arthur smiled, and propped himself up on his elbow.

“Already?”

“Yeah, I reckon he’s afraid you’ll get impatient and down the bottle anyways.”

“And I still might, should your tone continue to be so disrespectful.”

Merlin gave him a sideways grin and squinted.

“And give me the day off? You would never.”

Arthur made to respond but a chuckle caught him off guard and stole the insult from his throat. Merlin set about getting him dressed while Arthur let his mind wander. It seemed surreal. Everything was okay, he had kept his father and his friend, legalized magic, and righted the wrongs of history in one fell swoop. It seemed too good to be true. Uther was never the type to fold under pressure, even at the expense of things he cared about. It was Arthur and most people’s biggest criticism of him.

“Can I ask you something?” Merlin said suddenly, fumbling with the ties on Arthur’s shirt. Arthur snapped himself back into reality and nodded.

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me what you were planing to do?”

“Well it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Arthur chuckled. “You would’ve tried to stop me.”

“That’s probably true.”

“It’s definitely true.“

“Ah, yes, without you I’d have nobody to bark orders at me all the time.“

“And without you, I’d have nobody to bark orders at.”

“Fair enough.”

They fell into an easy silence, which Merlin broke again after a moment. He had a habit of doing that.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“You seem to be in a rather curious mood this morning.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you’ll forgive me that given how much you love to talk about yourself.”

Arthur tilted his head thoughtfully, and nodded.

“Go on.”

“How did you know what oleander was? It’s not exactly common knowledge, particularly to snobbish royalty.”

“It was an old story my father used to tell me,” Arthur began easily, ignoring the insult. “It was more of a way to scare me off of touching Gaius’s things without permission, really.”

“What was the story?”

“So many questions,” Arthur mused. “I expect you’ll be asking for bedtime stories next.”

“I’d have nightmares for weeks,” Merlin insisted. “What was the story?”

“Father told me about a beautiful young woman who fell in love with a man in her village,” Arthur explained. “And the man led her to believe he loved her, but left her for a wealthy woman on the day they were supposed to be wed.”

“He sounds like an ass.”

“That’s the whole point.”

“Right, sorry.”

“Anyways,” Arthur continued. “The woman was grief stricken and beside herself with anger, so she went to the man’s house and stabbed herself in the heart. Her blood soaked through the dirt and where her body fell sprouted beautiful pink flowers. The man and his wealthy lover came back to discover the flowers, and they picked a few for her wedding bouquet.”

“Ooh, that’s a mistake.”

“Merlin...”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“The couple both died agonizingly slow deaths, and where their bodies fell, more oleander flowers grew. Therefore, it is said that oleander is born from the blood of hate, and it exists to destroy love in all of its forms.”

“That’s ironic.” Merlin mused, finishing with the ties on Arthur’s jacket and taking a step back to admire his handiwork.

“Ironic? How so?”

“Oleander is meant to destroy love, but you used it to protect love.”

“What?”

Merlin seemed to realize what he had said and he suddenly developed a slight twitchiness and aversion to eye contact.

“I’m not sure what I meant there, to be perfectly honest.”

Arthur gave him a strange look, and Merlin coughed.

“Anyways. Much to do, ordinances for you to sign and all that.”

“Yes,” Arthur said distractedly, still staring at him.

“Should probably take that back to Gaius,” Merlin said casually, obviously trying to deflect attention from himself. “Oleander isn’t easy to come by.”

“Return it later; I’d like you to be there for the signing, given that however insignificant, you did have a hand in getting us here.”

Merlin smiled and rolled his eyes. He swiped the bottle off of Arthur’s bedside table and pocketed it.

“Take the dagger as well; it’s gone dull on one end. You’ll need to sharpen it later.”

Merlin nodded, and carefully wrapped Arthur’s favorite dagger in a cloth before concealing it in his pocket as well.

“Let’s get going, then?” Arthur held the door open for Merlin who made a huge show of thanking him profusely, which earned him a cuff over the head. 

They proceeded to the throne room, which already struck Arthur as odd. Ordinances were generally taken care of in the counsel room. Shaking this off as just a mild break from tradition, he crossed the threshold with his head held high and Merlin in tow.

“Arthur!” Uther greeted. He was alone. Another red flag, Arthur thought uneasily. He noted the increased number of guards in the room and nudged Merlin, who nodded. He had been paying attention, too.

“Father.” Arthur said curtly. Merlin gave a slight bow.

“How interesting that you still have some respect despite your actions yesterday.” Uther said airily, crossing the room to stand by the two men.

“You are still the king, your majesty,” Merlin said, obviously fighting to keep the disrespect out of his voice.

“I’d like to ask you something, Arthur,” Uther said, ignoring Merlin.

Arthur glanced over at Merlin.

“Alright. What is it?”

“I have to know before I do anything. Why do you risk so much in this boy’s name?”

Uther crossed his arms and shot Merlin a truly frigid look.

“Father, we’ve been over this.”

“We have, and you continuously fail to see the truth.” 

Uther’s face was stony and uncaring.

“Could we please just sign the ordinance and put this behind us?” Arthur pleaded.

“Ordinance. Of course.” Uther said, offering a painfully fake smile.

Merlin and Arthur exchanged another uneasy glance.

Uther took a few measured steps backwards and clasped his hands in front of him.

“You know, Arthur, I’m rather disappointed in you.”

Arthur faltered. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“What?”

“I had always assumed your inane acts of defiance and general foolishness were due to recklessness and an inability to control your emotions,” Uther began, his voice icy. “But I have been forced the past few months to make peace with the concept that it is not recklessness, but stupidity.”

“What are you-?”

“There is no ordinance. And there will never be one while I am alive.”

Rage seized Arthur and he had his hand around his father’s throat before he knew what he was doing. Uther’s eyes bulged out and he began to make a choking noise. Choking noises were a marked characteristic of being choked, Arthur suddenly remembered through the red haze of anger that currently clouded his vision. He loosened his grip slightly. 

“Arthur!” 

Merlin made to remove his arm but Arthur shifted and used his free hand to keep Merlin back.

“Arthur, stop. This isn’t right.”

“What’s not right,” he responded in a low growl. “Is that he LIED to me.”

The guards from the corners of the room and the adjacent hallway were already making their way towards Arthur, who was easily overpowered by five of them since he had no weapon.

Merlin sidestepped the guards advancing on him and produced Arthur’s dagger form his pocket, and for all his brandishing could not prevent it being slapped out of his hand and sent flying across the floor. Three guards seized him, one of which reached into his pocket and threw the bottle of oleander against the floor, smashing it. The pink liquid oozed from the bottle like blood from a wound and soaked the dagger in a puddle of fuchsia.

Arthur had a fleeting moment of confusion; these guards had all been put to sleep by Merlin before, and it seemed odd that they would allot more manpower to subduing Arthur rather than the known sorcerer.

Uther clasped his hands together again and moved to stand directly in front of Arthur, his face a mask of amusement, pity, and a hint of sadness. This enraged Arthur.

“I want you to know that I do care. Truly. I love you more than anything in this world,” Uther insisted.

“You’ve got an interesting way of showing it.” Arthur spat.

Uther sighed, his face pained.

“I have to protect you. It saddens me that you can’t see what this boy has done to you. You have proved to me just how unfit you are to rule by taking my promise at face value, and underestimating my will. Those are signs of weaknesses. I don’t like to lie to you, but being king is about making difficult decisions. You left me no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Merlin hissed.

“Yes, but oftentimes it is between what is right and what is easy,” Uther said quietly. “You have served my son faithfully, and for that I commend you. I will not deny that you are likely the reason he is alive at all, and that is a debt which I can never repay.”

“Well, you could start by not executing me.” Merlin remarked venomously. 

“Your death is symbolic. Not personal.” Uther assured him.

“Father, if you lay a hand on him,“ Arthur growled. “I will make your life a living hell. I will pitch myself off of the castle walls if I have to.”

“Oh, Arthur,” Uther sighed fondly. “You have your mother’s spirit.”

He gave Arthur an infuriatingly affectionate smile. How twisted a man, how cruel a tyrant, how jaded a father did a king have to be to act in this way? How could this man be his father? How did he justify this to himself? How was the act of killing the person closest to his son framed as the right thing to do in his mind?

“However, that won’t be happening. Your room is being stripped of all weapons and your window sealed off. You’ll be staying in there for quite some time, or at least until you realize what I’ve done for you.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that, Arthur.”

“I hate you.”

Uther rolled his eyes.

“This behavior is what got us here in the first place.”

“What got us here is YOU!” Arthur roared. “YOU did this. Don’t you DARE blame this on me like you always do!”

Uther shook his head.

“I didn’t want it to have to come to this, but there is another precaution that I’ve taken.”

Arthur froze.

Merlin let out a quiet “No,” fear filling his eyes.

“If you ever pull another stunt like the one you attempted yesterday with the oleander,” Uther said in a low voice, staring right at Arthur. “I will have Morgana’s maid executed as well.”

Arthur began struggling wildly with murder in his eyes while Merlin started shaking and went pale in the face. 

Arthur was screaming “How dare you?“ over and over, finding no other words

“Your main problem is your fondness for servants,” Uther remarked. “Merlin will be executed immediately and the girl will follow should you choose to keep up your petty inconveniences.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur-“

“I’m going to kill you, and when I do I will take the throne and be 100 times the king you ever were.” 

The guards holding Arthur shifted slightly. Their hands felt shaky.

Doubt.

Their loyalties were divided.

Arthur was breathing exceptionally heavily, and, emboldened by the idea of the guards being on his side, his eyes strayed to Merlin. His face was pale and his eyes were wide with what could have been fear but looked more like anger. 

He saw a question in Merlin’s eyes. 

Arthur paused, and followed his wide eyed gaze to the floor, where a certain blue gem encrusted dagger was lying in a puddle of poison near the king’s feet. Arthur looked back at Merlin.

He tightened his mouth into a line and nodded.

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and someone screamed.

The guards immediately released Arthur from their grasp, and Merlin’s captors followed suit.

The king lay twitching on the floor, a pink soaked dagger sticking out of the left side of his chest.

Merlin was shaking, staring at the fallen man and wiping his hands on his trousers as if he had done the deed by hand.

Arthur turned to the guards and jerked his head at the door.

“You know where your loyalties lie. Not a single one of you will not be punished for anything that occurred today. Leave us, please.”

His voice sounded calm, which he was grateful for.

The guards nodded obediently and filed out of the room. Once they were gone, Arthur let the tears that had been threatening his reputation fall.

He remained kneeling over his father’s body for hours, and Merlin eventually joined him by his side.

“He cared about me, in his own twisted way,” Arthur said quietly. “He used to be a good man. I don’t know when that changed.”

Merlin gingerly wrapped an arm around Arthur and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

Arthur broke down. 

Sobs shook his entire body and he buried his head in Merlin’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to bite back the whimpers that tore out of his throat like uncaged animals.

After a long while, he collected himself slightly and managed to choke out two words into Merlin’s ear.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking with this story and reading it!! This one turned out to be a tad longer than expected so there will be one more chapter after this one to wrap things up. I can’t thank you enough for your support, your kind words, and your patience! (I know this chapter took a bit longer than usual!) It’s been lovely and I can’t wait to finish this journey with you guys. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. I love you all! ❤️


	10. Help and Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Uther gone and Arthur on the throne, Arthur has to grieve, right his father’s wrongs, and eventually tell the people what happened. It won’t be easy.

Arthur wasn’t okay at first.

Nobody expected him to be, of course. The death of one’s father, particularly when one’s father was the king, was not a matter to be taken lightly.

Arthur quickly grew tired of everyone’s pity, though. He was king. Their leader; intended to be respected and trusted and listened to, not treated as one would treat a wounded animal in the street.

He did not need their morsels of sympathy, nor did he care to explain this to them.

Therefore, he grieved internally for the majority of the days immediately after. He detested their saccharine smiles, lips pulled back forcefully to reveal grimaces filled to the brim with poison and honey. Their words were pure, as were their hearts, but they continually failed to realize what their effusive sympathy was doing to Arthur, and for this, he could not rightly fault them. He never gave them any sign that he was anything less than appreciative; it would be unfair to expect them to infer this themselves.

He was coronated immediately for the sake of stability. The kingdom would not last long without a ruler. Uther’s antagonistic tendencies had made sure of that.

There were celebrations in the streets that lasted for days after the king’s death was announced.

Arthur couldn’t bring himself to blame them. 

The king was not their father, and he believed they should count themselves lucky that he was not.

The circumstances surrounding Uther’s death were not revealed at the time. Arthur wanted to tell the people himself.

Somehow, the people didn’t seem to mind very much.

Arthur did not miss Uther. He only missed having a father.

Arthur would have locked himself in his room for days if responsibility had not dictated he begin performing his duties at once.

Gwen and Morgana treated Arthur with the same care as the other members of the court. They left small gifts in his room, frequently checked up on him, and asked the kitchen staff to include extra helpings of his favorite foods with his meals. They watched him with wide eyes and eager faces, asking if he needed anything, and would he like to go for a walk, or would he like them to stay and talk for awhile?

He knew it was irrational to be angry with them. Arthur was very aware of how his perception of kindness had warped, and he fought against it at every opportunity. He accepted their gifts with strained smiles and hugged them and thanked them over and over, sending them away feeling comforted. 

Ironic, he thought, that they should come to him with the intent of comforting him, and leave as the ones feeling better.

He wondered if this type of thinking was how Uther came to change so dramatically; if the death of his mother had had a similar effect.

It was only when that thought crossed his mind that he started to improve internally as well as externally.

Merlin spent much more time in his chambers since it happened. Most of the time he would sharpen the same sword, polish the same boots, wash the floor over and over. Arthur knew what he was doing. He didn’t want to leave Arthur to deal with everything alone.

Merlin was the only one who hadn’t changed. He was quieter, of course, but he performed his duties the same and talked the same and even cracked a few jokes on occasion; though Arthur never could bring himself to acknowledge the humor, he could sense that Merlin hadn’t even expected a reaction. He had just been proving to Arthur that he didn’t see him any differently, and for that, Arthur was genuinely grateful.

He didn’t sleep the first few nights.

After the first week he began talking again, mostly to Merlin.

By the second week he was outwardly stoic, but broke down frequently in private when only Merlin was there to hear.

The first time came when Merlin entered with his breakfast and a singsong “rise and shine!” 

As Arthur ate, he thought of his own resentment towards Uther, and guilt had overtaken him.

Merlin had cradled his head and calmed him down as he whispered about familial loyalty and betrayal and guilt between sobs.

Merlin had told him it wasn’t his fault.

That if Uther had not been his father he would be experiencing no guilt.

That it was the right thing to do.

Arthur had asked if he was like his father at all.

Merlin had shook his head, and whispered fiercely. 

“You are NOTHING like him.”

Arthur thought for the first time that he might actually believe it.

The ordinance was signed on the fifth day of the second week. Merlin was present, and, per Arthur’s request, he was asked to add his own signature. It was right under Arthur’s; the second name on the list. 

Merlin seemed embarrassed by his shaky and rather juvenile looking signature next to the well-practiced loopy calligraphy of the others, but Arthur assured him it didn’t matter.

“Besides,” he had added. “I rather like the look of it.”

He smiled at Merlin. It was the first time since it had happened.

The third signature was Gaius’s. He had objected originally, and downplayed his own importance in relation to the ordinance, but Merlin had insisted. 

“Traditions don’t mean very much at the moment, do they?” He had said with a sideways grin. Arthur had nodded, and given Gaius the choice to either sign or not, if he wasn’t comfortable. He was eventually persuaded, much to everyone’s delight.

It took four months for Arthur to work up the courage to address the people.

He was outwardly the same Arthur as before, though he had moments where he’d slip back into the old routine of quiet apathy and irrational agitation. Merlin was there to comfort him when it got overwhelming, when he would bow his head and fight back tears every time his father’s face flitted through his mind. All it would take was Merlin’s hand on his shoulder and his breathing would slow, his vision would clear, and everything would suddenly seem brighter.

The day of the address, Arthur was quiet. He had visions of his people shunning him, calling him a murderer, leaving the city in droves. It was getting difficult to think about anything else.

Merlin had noticed his change in demeanor immediately, but remained silent until Arthur was dressed and all but ready to go. 

“I’ve known you for years,” Merlin began, taking a careful step towards him. “I have seen you face death a hundred times and you’ve never once turned away, even when the odds were impossible. I’ve seen you threaten to drink poison, ACTUALLY drink poison, and take on fifty men at once while unarmed, and you’ve always come out unscathed for the most part.”

Merlin hesitated slightly with a gently teasing smile blooming on his face. Arthur stood rigid, eyes fixated on an imaginary point over Merlin’s shoulder and jaw set as if he were angry; both knew that it was quite the opposite.

“And yet,” Merlin continued quietly. “I have never seen you this scared.”

Arthur found himself feeling indignant, as his pride often dictated of him. However, it was strangely comforting to be known so completely. To have Merlin look at him and know what he felt without any words being spoken on his part.

“I’m not scared,” Arthur lied.

Merlin didn’t laugh, but he did grin.

“There’s no use lying to me.”

Arthur remained silent.

“It’s okay, honest.”

When Merlin received no answer, he sighed.

“They could never hate you.”

Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Merlin shook his head and smiled gently.

“I’ve been out there more than you. I know how they felt about him and I know how they feel about you. They’ll understand.”

Arthur wanted to believe it.

“Do you really think so?” He asked quietly.

Merlin nodded.

Arthur took one last deep breath.

“I suppose it’s time, then.”

The first thing he noticed upon stepping onto the balcony was the silence. An overwhelmingly oppressive silence. The people watched expectantly, eyes upturned not with fear or loathing, but with what seemed to be innocent curiosity. Arthur found that this comforted him slightly. Morgana, on his left, nudged him.

“They’re waiting for their king,” she whispered, and gave him a kind smile. It was truly kind. Not pitiful or carefully crafted to upset him as little as possible. He nodded back at her, hoping his gratitude would show through his eyes somehow. 

Gwen, on Morgana’s right, gave him an encouraging smile.

Arthur pushed down any fear that still bubbled near the surface and gripped the railing in front of him tightly.

“I expect you all know why I have gathered you here,” he began, bellowing over the heads of the crowd the way he’d seen his father do many times before. “And it has been wrong of me to keep the truth from you for so long.”

The crowd murmured excitedly, and Merlin took a half step closer to Arthur, who found this to be a great comfort.

“King Uther died by my own hand.” 

The crowd fell dead silent. Arthur took in a shaky breath and continued, letting none of the power leave his voice.

“His hatred of magic and all of its practitioners had corrupted him beyond reason. He arranged to have my manservant killed, and when it failed, he attempted to threaten the life of another innocent, the Lady Morgana’s maid, should I continue to disobey.”

The crowd reacted with uproarious sounds of disapproval. The words “tyrant!” and “murderer!” flew through the air like arrows. Arthur couldn’t tell if it was for him or Uther.

“He manipulated and lied to us, and used his power to cause irrevocable damage to his own people. And for that, I apologize. I can never replace the lives that have been lost or destroyed due to my father’s ignorance and cruelty, but I can promise that under my rule, history will never repeat itself.”

The crowd died down, and the noise was reduced to a quiet hum as the people processed his words.

“As long as I shall live, Camelot will be a place where everyone is welcome, and everyone is protected. I understand that some of you will be angry, and you have every right to be. My father was not universally despised; this I know for a fact. However, under my rule, you are free to state your opinions, announce your thoughts as they are, and express any beliefs you may have, all while being entirely free from persecution.”

Arthur had planned on saying more, but the crowd suddenly erupted into raucous cheers and drowned him out. He turned to Merlin with widened eyes.

“What did I say?”

Merlin beamed at him.

“Exactly what you needed to.”

There were loud celebrations in the streets nearly all night. 

Arthur awoke the next morning feeling considerably better, and when Merlin finally busted into his room bearing breakfast, he found himself in good spirits.

“Somehow,” Arthur said, turning to Merlin with an amused look. “I thought the knowledge that the throne was technically usurped would be taken slightly harder than this.”

Merlin grinned.

“You truly underestimate how much they hated him. And, of course, how much they love you,” He said, picking up the last few bits of laundry on the floor and tossing them into the basket he’d left by the door. “And they have every reason to.”

This gave Arthur pause, and his stomach did a flip.

“And what would those reasons be?”

“You’re brave, kind, intelligent when you absolutely need to be,” Merlin replied easily. “Though those moments are few and far between, I’ll admit.”

Arthur fought a smile, and Merlin shot him a teasing grin.

“You’re also just enough of an idiot to be approachable.”

Arthur wasn’t sure if idiot or approachable offended him more.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t look very, how shall I put it? Mean?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Ah, but you shouldn’t.” Merlin smiled at him fondly, and Arthur’s heart leapt. He tried to ignore it.

“Can I tell you something?” He blurted out, regretting it immediately.

It caught Merlin’s attention, however, and he straightened up to listen.

“I didn’t mean to say that; I misspoke.” Arthur said quickly.

Merlin chuckled.

“It must be embarrassing if you’re being this secretive. What could you possibly have done?”

“Poisoned the water supply.” Arthur deadpanned, which caught Merlin off guard enough to pull a genuine laugh out of him. Arthur’s stomach did a flip, which he managed to convince himself was unrelated.

Merlin inclined his head expectantly and never letting up on his infuriatingly bright smile, he took a few steps closer.

“What was it? You can tell me.”

Arthur would gladly tell him, of course, if he even knew what it was that he wanted to say. Which he did, deep down, but that wasn’t something he was willing to admit just yet.

“What is it? A war crime? A secret affair?” 

Arthur snorted at the latter, which caused Merlin to gasp dramatically.

“An affair?”

“I’m not sure anything counts as an affair if I’m not married.”

“A fair point. Then what is it? Unless you’ve actually poisoned the water supply, in which case I’ll need to go get Gaius. Not sure he’d even believe me at first given the fact-“

“I’d be lost without you.” 

“-that he always seems to assume I’m crazy when I- what?”

Arthur coughed.

“I said I’d be lost without you.”

Merlin’s mouth fell open slightly and his eyes widened dramatically.

“D’you really mean that?” He breathed, a half smile forming on his face.

“I do. I don’t know how the last few months would’ve gone without you.”

“Probably a lot better.”

“No.” Arthur said softly.

This caught Merlin off guard again. He covered himself by laughing.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Arthur didn’t answer, but he allowed a warm smile to rest on his face as he looked back at him. Something had clicked, and Arthur’s fear was all but gone.

“All I meant to say is thank you. For all of it.”

“I’d have done it anyways,” Merlin dismissed. “There’s no need.”

“No, I mean it. I was stuck, and I’m fairly certain if it weren’t for you that I would’ve stayed stuck for a much longer time. Thank you.”

Merlin gave a short nod, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. They remained silent for a few moments. Arthur let his mind wander and frowned suddenly.

“Do you know what I’ve just realized?”

“What?”

”The oleander. It saved love and it destroyed it at the same time.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Arthur sighed.

“My father loved me, and I loved him. That was part of the reason I made such pathetic excuses for his actions for so long. It held me back from seeing him for who he truly was. Oleander destroyed that love, and in doing so, it protected the rest of my love from his influence.”

Merlin shook his head.

“Don’t blame yourself for not realizing sooner. That isn’t fair to you.”

“I don’t know.”

“I do know. None of this was your fault.”

Arthur nodded, and raised his eyes to meet Merlin’s. Merlin’s gaze was gentle but firm, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in an expression of determination.

“None of this was your fault.” He repeated.

Arthur nodded, not looking away.

Merlin smiled softly, and took a small step towards him. There was less than a foot of space between them.

A year ago Arthur might have backed away. Might have insulted him, punched him, insisted he get out or shut up. He might have been scared, or angry, or disgusted. He might have even sought a new manservant.

But now, with his pulse racing and his eyes locked with Merlin’s, he thought only of the times his life had been saved with no credit, the times Merlin had been there for him when no one else was, the knowing smiles and the cocked eyebrows, the hugs, the promises, the jokes, the teasing. The way that Merlin was somehow the most gentle person in the world despite wielding more power than Arthur could fathom. The way he laughed and the way he smiled.

Arthur thought only of Merlin.

He was inches from his face before he processed what was happening. 

He hesitated, holding his breath. Merlin’s eyes were wide, his expression unreadable.

Doubt seized Arthur and he made to lean away, but felt a gentle hand on his wrist.

“You are many things,” Merlin said with a grin. “But a coward is not one of them.”

Arthur froze.

“It’s alright,” Merlin said quietly. “I promise.”

His voice cut through the haze in Arthur’s mind, and the fear numbed itself. All of the doubt and suspicion and defense mechanisms simultaneously eased, and his head was finally cleared for the first time in a long time.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against Merlin’s.

His only thought was that this felt right. That this was exactly what was meant to happen from the moment they had met. 

He brought a hand up to rest on the back of Merlin’s neck, running his thumb over the edge of his jaw.

His head was spinning, but for the first time in his life, that wasn’t a bad thing.

When they broke apart, Merlin’s eyes were shining. 

They didn’t speak for a few moments, just stared and held on for dear life.

“Wow,” Merlin breathed. He was gripping Arthur’s forearm tightly, as if afraid he would disappear. He smiled, and raised his eyebrows slightly. “Your breath is disgusting.”

Arthur pulled him into a tight hug, allowing himself to laugh without reservation. Relief flooded over him. Things were normal. Everything was okay, and it was real this time.

Arthur’s absolutes underwent their final revision in his mind, and came out twice as solid as they had ever been.

Absolute number one: Arthur loved Merlin.

Absolute number two: Merlin loved Arthur.

Absolute number three: Everything was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a journey it has been. I want to thank you all for reading my entire story, and for sticking with me through my bizarre update schedule and wildly inconsistent writing style lmao. I love you all so much, and I hope reading my story has brought you as much joy as it did for me while I was writing it. Thank you so much. I love you!!!!! 💕💕💕💕

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I decided to try my hand at multiple chapters since I usually do only short little fluffy things. I’m trying to branch out a little lmao; please be nice!! 
> 
> Also I love Arthur?? He is so smart and so stupid at the same time and I love to exaggerate that little paradox so much man
> 
> If you have any suggestions or ideas you’d like to share drop them below! I’d love to hear them! 
> 
> Have a lovely day all 💕


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